


The Play of Fate

by akampana



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night: Unlimited Blade Works (Anime 2014)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Holy Grail, Love Triangles, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akampana/pseuds/akampana
Summary: "What makes you think we'd do that for free?" The blue-haired man asked, eyes challenging the black-clad killer in front of him. The man stared, eyes as cold and hard as steel. "If you help us destroy the Grail...We will give you life." In which the Servants try to maintain a normal life, while fighting the Grail behind the scenes.(Multiple pairings)(Reposting here from ff.net, I'm moving)





	1. Chapter 1

_Two Souls._

_That was the rule._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

It smelled faintly of wildflowers and cut grass. She thought there was a breeze blowing. And there was sun.

Yes, sun.

Her eyes fluttered open, slightly squinting in the bright light.

Where am I?

She shot up, eyes zipping to her surroundings.

_This is not Britain_.

Long grass tickled her ankles as a warm breeze teased her hair.

_This is not Britain_.

Confused as she was, she could at least tell that this was not real. Not the azure sky, nor the warmth on her skin, not even that innocent butterfly perching on the edge of her drawn sword.

_This is NOT Britain_.

She found herself testing the illusion, stepping on the grass like she would have tested the chill of a lake in spring. It didn't ripple. The vast landscape of a false paradise remained unchanged, reminding her that she was alone. Again.

Nothing would ever change that.

_Why am I here?_

It was as if her mind had been replaced by a ball of fur. It bothered her to no end that she was both clueless and exposed here, out in the open.

_Kings are most vulnerable in ignorance._

Her eyes closed as she willed her thoughts back. What came to mind was pain, the presence of Sir Bedivere, and Britain.

_Oh. Britain._

It all dawned on the young King.

_I failed._

Her death flashed before her eyes, taunting her… torturous.

_Again…again on that bloody hill. Scattered remains of enemy and comrade alike, with the body bearing her own face at her feet. And then…Bedivere…and…a wonderful dream…I…I…_

And then for a fleeting moment, the pain was gone, banished by a flash of yellow orbs, and a naïve head of ginger hair.

_Shirou..._

She willed his image away, her brow creasing. Her jaw tightened visibly as she clenched her teeth, head hung in sorrow, shame, and resent for herself. Her hands went to her head as she sunk to the ground, tears threatening to spill. Her breath hitched.

"Dear Britain...Forgive your unworthy King."

The corners of her lips pulled downward, as the tears freely rolled down her cheeks.

_Forgive me_.

She begged.

_Forgive me._

She pleaded.

_Forgive me._

She blinded herself with hope that they could hear her; that they could forgive her. Though she knew it was foolish to believe in that false, impossible hope. As if they would ever forgive her for failing.

They would be merciless to a King who failed _twice._

And they would definitely curse one who did it  _on her own free will._

She destroyed that which would bring them back their glory.

She tasted salt as a new torrent of her sobs washed over her. Her tears marred the beauty of her face, and without looking she knew her eyes were red.

"Forgive me..." she choked out as she desperately wiped away her never-ending tears. Her voice was cracking. How pathetic a King she is indeed.

_Do Kings cry? Ridiculous!_

She rubbed at her eyes, willing the tears to stop but they wouldn't stop spilling. They couldn't. She hugged her legs, face flushed from crying, the claws of guilt crushing her heart in its grasp.

_Two chances to undo the past._

The first time, her chance was stolen away by her own master.

The second time, her blade put an end to that cursed cup.

And though her tears told how excruciating it was to accept how she left her homeland…

She did not reg—

"Saber?"

Her head snapped back at the mention of her name. She knew that voice. Green orbs met amber ones.

"Lan...cer?"

They held their gaze in silence. Saber broke away from his eyes, hands frantically wiping away her tears. "You...did not see me-" Saber said between breaths.

He stared at her with a comprehending sadness beyond his honey-coloured eyes.

_So it's true that even Kings weep_. The Irishman thought.

A pair of green eyes glanced a moment at the hand that was offered to her, before meeting the eyes of the handsome man before her.

A small smile graced his lips. "It's been ten years, King of Knights."

Saber's hand hovered over his with uncertainty, and Diarmuid took it upon himself to close the gap between their fingers.

_He hadn't changed._

_Chivalrous as always_ , Saber thought to herself as he pulled her up gently.

"You have my thanks, First Knight of Fianna." Saber bowed a little, lowering her eyes as soon as they met his to hide the effects of her tears. He didn't seem to mind.

"You do not don your armor, Saber?"

His words took her by surprise. Arturia herself did not even notice. A long white dress replaced her usual blue garment. Her feet were bare and her ankles and wrists adorned with delicate silver chains. Her hair was loose, but she wore a thin, simple, silver circlet encrusted with small sapphire gems. On her right hand, was the silver ring of the Pendragons, with no heir to pass it to. She was dressed simply, but elegantly. Only in death did her country recognize that she was a woman.

"This is what they had me wear when I was buried, I suppose." Her eyes went back to Lancer.

Wait...then why is Lancer...?

A dead man can feel no pain, so they say, but the anguish Lancer felt was in his core. His gaze was distant. He was turned to the right, giving Saber a clear view of his profile. The Irishman was covered in cuts and bruises. His clothes had remains of his blood that looked like only rain had washed it away.

Even dead men suffer from a shattered heart.

He looked so...broken. She wanted to console him, relieve him of his pain, but what would she say? What could she say?

"It has come to mind that perhaps Saber knows of my name but not my origin," He turned back to her. "Would the honourable King of Knights care to hear the tragic tale of Diarmuid O'Dyna?"

There was no joy behind the curve of his lips. It was a bitter, sad expression that she knew all too well.

She mirrored him, sadness lacing her lips.

"Only if he wishes to share it."

* * *

 


	2. The Pain of the Past

_Two souls._

_Tied together._

_Bound by fate._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

The knight returned her smile, pleased at her answer, and offered his hand.

"Come."

Saber took his hand a little hesitantly, and allowed herself to be escorted. She was tugged along gently through the seemingly endless plain. The situation felt foreign. She had always led, never followed; always been on the front lines, never behind defences. Her eyes strayed to where his fingers enveloped hers. He held her hand in his firmly, yet tenderly, as if giving her the option to let go.

But she didn't.

Guiding her was Lancer…Tall, strong, the very image of a knight in armour. She should know. When they met, she'd almost wished for his company at the Round Table. Her eyes moved from his wavy black hair down to his back, brows furrowing at the deep gashes she saw amid the tattered fabric of his garbs.

_Why?_

He led her to a low-branched tree that shaded them from the high sun. Diarmuid lay on the grass, hands behind his head, but not before letting his lady King lean comfortably on the tree trunk.

He laughed as he began, "Forgive me if my words seem to be laced with pride." It was a sweet, innocent sound, not marred by resentment or agony.

The blonde smirked, "A knight as skilled as yourself should be proud." She nodded to him, signalling that she was eager to listen.

"I was the first of the Knights of Fianna , the one most trusted by my leader. Though I was but a knight, one high as him regarded me as a friend. Skilled with both spear and sword, even more formidable when wielding two weapons, I was quite the powerful one, if I should say so myself."

_Is that a challenge?_

Her eyes met his with an amused raised eyebrow, and he smirked.

"Moralltach, The Great and Fierce One, was my stronger sword. It left no blow unfinished and would never miss its mark. Beagalltach or Little Fury was a shorter sword I owned. Both were bestowed upon me by Aengus, who raised me."

_He was raised by another as I was._ Her days with Kay and his father suddenly came to mind.

"Gae Dearg is the name of my strongest weapon, the Red Spear that cancels mana. Gae Buidhe is the Yellow Spear that makes wounds that never heal."

The knight sat up, keeping one leg outstretched and one bent, and rested his arm on his bent leg. Glancing at her as if asking permission, he took her left hand in his right and turned it over gently. "I am quite sure you already know the strength these spears possess."

Looking at him with questioning eyes, she flinched slightly when he brushed the thumb of his free hand over her wrist.

Diarmuid withdrew his hands as the slight tremor passed his fingertips. Saber only realized what he had been doing when his brow furrowed and he averted his eyes. On her wrist was the reminder of a deep cut that had given her a handicap all those years ago.

He was looking for a scar.

She searched him for the mark that had ended his life in the last war, thanks to his foolish master. She was hit by a pang of guilt when she couldn't find it. His back was so torn apart she couldn't distinguish it from the other gouges roughly ingrained in his flesh.

"I slew three thousand four hundred men single-handedly, all to bring victory and glory to my captain." Her thoughts were interrupted by the continuation of his story, temporarily banished from her mind by the way his eyes caught the sun.

_Why would heaven ever forsake this man?_

"For many years I basked in the praise sent my way and nothing could make me happier than serving my lord." Just as suddenly as they lit, his amber eyes darkened, excitement dying in his throat.

"And I was also known for this," he sighed. He moved his hand up to tap the mole beneath his eye. "Diarmuid of the love spot!" he exclaimed, swiping his hand in front of him as if he was spelling his name in the air. The move was half-hearted, like he never had pride in such a title. And his eyes masked no pain.

His jaw tightened, and he spoke as if his words were poison, slowly killing him from within. "At first it dealt me no harm. It only added to my fame. Never did it cross my mind that this cursed spot would be my downfall."

"One day, my captain, Fionn Mac Cumhaill, whose years had finally caught up to him, had received word that his wife had died. He had many spouses, but Oisin, his son, suggested he marry Grainne, the beautiful daughter of the High King of Ireland. Their marriage was arranged."

At the mention of the Irish princess, Arturia swore she saw him wince, the scowl on his face only intensified as he resumed.

"Grainne's ignorance only bestowed upon her a heavy predicament. She thought she'd be the wife of Oisin, or even of Oscar, Fionn's grandson. Only at the celebration did she discover she was to marry the aging captain. Fionn, who could be her father, or even her grandfather, was soon to know her in bed. She despaired in silence beside her betrothed. One of the knights proposed a toast to their happy marriage..." Diarmuid trailed off.

At this point his voice was barely above a whisper, and he was looking so far, far away that though he was right here beside her, she feared that if she tried to touch him, her fingers would pass right through his image. This…this was where fate threw him into the abyss.

"Grainne fell for me the moment she saw the spot on my face."

And this was where gravity crushed him at rock-bottom.

"She came to my chamber in the depths of the night asking...no, begging me to elope. Tears laced her eyes, but despite her pleas, I refused. Such actions were forbidden. Never would I betray my lord. An honourable knight is forever loyal, is he not, King of Knights?"

He wasn't looking at her; wasn't expecting her to answer. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Of what  _worth_  is a  _false_ love?" he seethed though his teeth.

Saber tore her eyes from him and looked to the leaves of the tree she leaned against.

"And then?" she half-said, half-whispered, hoping she wouldn't provoke him. Suddenly the cool breeze blowing turned frigid, and she could no longer feel the warmth of her companion's ambiance.

Her voice soothed him enough that he could continue. "Many times, she repeated her request, and each time I denied her and told her to return to her quarters. In desperation, she cast a Geas on me, sealing my sin with her kiss. My world crumbled before me. I was stripped of my honour and shamed all in that one instant. She took all I lived for; she took everything from me: my life, my future, with just a kiss in return. Bound by the Geas, I had no choice. I succumbed to her wishes and we escaped into the night."

He laughed cruelly. "My Lord was furious. He sent hundreds of knights after me, promising wealth and power to the one who would strike me dead. The knights that fell by my hand were the same ones whose side I once fought on."

Arturia's eyes widened and flew to him, only to be avoided when he turned away.

"So many times it crossed my mind to stop and return to my lord's side and explain everything. I wished to go back, but Grainne's Geas was powerful. Surely my Lord would have me killed, but I would much rather have faced my fate than live in shame. I returned to Grainne, giving no word of the battle fought. It would never come to her knowledge that knights lay cold and dead in the rain as a result of her actions. It was her ignorance that brought this disaster. If only she had made efforts to know her fiancée, the battle could have been avoided. But, perhaps it was my fault as well, for having this love spot," Diarmuid narrated, eyes looking straight up to the canopy the small tree provided.

A deep gash across his jugular caught Saber's attention, and suddenly she was filled with rage.

Diarmuid was a mess of deep scars. Gashes on his back, gouges on his chest, lacerations all brutally decorating his body. He was made to suffer before he died. A cut to his neck would have sufficed and yet…

She chewed on her lip silently as she looked down at the white gown she wore to her last great ceremony.

_Do I even deserve this?_

"My sin was unforgivable. Men searched everywhere for clues to my whereabouts. Grainne and I were forced into hiding, remaining deep in the forest. During the years I spent with her, the look in her eyes never changed. It was trance-like, just like any woman's eyes would be when they gazed upon me. Though one of Royal blood, she was no different from the women I had charmed." Diarmuid laughed cruelly at his own fate. Saber watched him, her own fate replaying in her head.

"I knew I had to spend the rest of my life with Grainne, so I endured every day that had come to pass, faking smiles, pretending I was content…at least as pitiful as I was, I could make someone else happy. Finally, after years and years," Diarmuid stated, "word came that Fionn had forgiven us. We were overjoyed, finally being able to come out of hiding, but I was even more so, hoping I could once again fight by my Lord's side. I had served him for many years; I had been loyal and true. There was no reason that I couldn't serve him again, if he had really overlooked the event with Grainne."

There was a smile on his face that looked so forlorn that she wanted to tear it apart.

"To celebrate our freedom, Grainne, who missed her father, decided to hold a feast. Even my master was invited to the celebration. When we met, he showed no hostility. He treated me as he always had, merely waving off the subject of Grainne like it was nothing. He said he had lost a valuable subject, and had hoped I'd still be willing to fight on his side. With his word, my honour was restored. I couldn't be happier. The captain invited me on a hunting trip, and I agreed. I could finally serve the captain again."

Diarmuid was avoiding her eyes. She wondered if he was really telling the story for her or if he was doing it to remind himself of his cruel fate.

"When the day arrived, I took only my weaker sword and Gae Buidhe with me. We encountered a powerful boar that had once been human, which had the strength of a hundred men. Fionn and I fought it together. I did my best to shield Fionn and our other companions, but I was at a disadvantage, having only brought my weaker weapons. The boar was slain as the sun reached its peak. I had been fatally wounded. I lay drenched in my blood, a deep gash running through my abdomen."

Lancer traced where the wound was, like the pain was still there.

"At least my companions weren't harmed, I thought, and Fionn wasn't hurt at all. Water drunk from Fionn's hands had the power of healing; I thought he would aid me in my pitiful state. He approached, carrying water in his hands, but when he reached my side, he whispered close to my ear, 'Do you think I've forgotten what happened with Grainne?'"

Saber's head snapped to face Diarmuid, eyes wide and brows knit. Diarmuid continued, "I could do nothing but watch hopelessly as he let the water flow through his hands and scatter in the ground next to my head. "That's-!" Saber interrupted, but found no other words to say.

Her eyes sank to the grass, a frown slowly forming on her lips.

The raven-haired man blew his lone bang out of his face. "All I wished for during my second life was the loyalty I was denied. However, fate was too cruel." An image of Kayneth and Sola-Ui entered his mind.  _Tch._ He touched his thumb to the mole beneath his eye.

"Well, that's all in the past. I'm done with being a servant...And I'm tired of Grainne."

How could he just dismiss it like that? What of his other scars? Had he been tortured? In the vicious sliver of life he had left, had his own captain  _wounded_  him?  _Mutilated_  him?  _Shamed_  him?

Before she knew what she was doing, she'd run her fingers gently over the lacerations on his back. Her brows had furrowed at the touch, green eyes widening in horror at the large gashes. Even sinners were spared this inhumane treatment, instead granted an undeserved, painless death.

How could  _anyone_  allow such horrid things to happen?

It was then that he turned and took her hand from his scars and enveloped it in his. Diarmuid met her distressed green eyes with guilty orange ones.

"You look distraught, King of Knights…"

He squeezed her hand soothingly. Her worried gaze only intensified. Shouldn't she be the one comforting him? _She_ wasn't given a cruel curse.  _She_  wasn't the one forced against her will to betray.  _She_ wasn't the one who was given death by her own master.  _Hell,_ she was once a leader herself!

His palm felt cold in hers. It was so unlike the same hand that had led her earlier. Now, she no longer felt the warmth of his fingers, nor sensed the protective confidence he had when he led her here. Odd as it may sound, she desperately wanted it back. She gripped his hand firmly, leaning closer to him to meet his sunset eyes with her own concerned emerald orbs.

"You did not deserve this. Not  _any_  of it."

She shook her head slightly, her voice firm but consoling. Her words were barely above a whisper, as if they were for him and him only.

His eyes widened. The King's words were simple, but more than enough to rest his soul. In that single moment, he'd heard the words he'd yearned to hear for so long. He'd almost wished he could drown in the sea that was her eyes, If only to live frozen in this moment for all eternity.

He'd only realized he'd been crying when he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, tasting the salt of his tears between her knuckles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's chapter 2 of The Play of Fate. I've decided to post the chapters as soon as possible and keep this story updated on AO3, because a lot of the chapters are already online on another website anyway. Leave a review about what you think! I'd really appreciate it. Hearing from the community is what keeps me motivated to keep writing. :)
> 
> akampana


	3. The Pain of the Past (Part 2)

_That was just how they were made._

_._

_._

_._

* * *

Diarmuid stared at the little King he was so fond of. He felt lighter than air, as if she had just released him from chains that had tied him down for ages. She had her head rested on the tree trunk, and the wind was playing with her hair.

…

He should really stop staring, shouldn't he?

"Why is your name and title King Arthur Pendragon? Forgive me if I sound rather rude, but that's the name that was passed in your legend. I realized it during our first duel, but I must say, I was quite surprised," he broke the comfortable silence that had come over them.

Saber smirked. "Such an odd question indeed, Lancer, but I suppose someone whom I've had the honour to fight should use my true name."

"Arturia..." the man voiced. He remembered the first time he'd ever heard her say it, a long, long time ago. "It suits you, King of Knights."

"You're one of the few who knows me by that name, Diarmuid O'Dyna."

"Oh," said the knight, "it is an honor then, to know Saber by her real name."

Arturia smirked, "Only if you deem it as such."

The man laughed, smiling into the back of his hand. She laughed with him.

The way he said her name felt almost foreign. She'd never been able to enjoy being called by it at all, having been called 'Arthur' her whole life. Shirou hadn't even asked for her name, nor did he use it when he had found out.

"I hope you didn't have a terrible fate like I did," the spearman said when the laughter came to a stop.

"Ah, well, I did not have charm magic bestowed upon me." Lancer tilted his head at this, giving her a half-smile.

Saber glanced at the little spot beneath his right eye before she spoke again, "Would the honourable First Knight of Fianna care to hear the tragic tale of King Arthur Pendragon?"

Lancer smirked, "Only if she wishes to share it."

This girl interested him. Between them, the mood was oddly familiar. The Knight of Fianna recalled the tales he shared with his comrades over food and drink. How strange that a lady could incite such a feeling in him. Well, she was a knight, after all. There was something about her that he just couldn't figure out. It was something only she had; something that he'd never come across in any other woman.

Arturia began, "The tale of King Arthur began in the dark times of Britain. The great King, Uther Pendragon had passed away. His kingdom grieved for him. His domain was in chaos, with no one to take up his crown. It was then that the mystical sword in the stone appeared. 'Whosoever pulleth this sword from this stone shall be the rightful King of all Britain.' Those were the words engraved on the rock. Though hundreds of gallant knights tried to remove the sword, it remained fastened to its sheath. One day, a small girl approached to try her hand at pulling out the blade."

Diarmuid raised his eyebrows to confirm Saber's person in the tale. She nodded sadly. Suddenly, he wondered if it was right to be curious of her past. Once, in his younger days he had taken a swift blow to his arm. Despite the healer's words, he sparred with one of the other knights just as he had been patched up. In the end, he had to forfeit. Reopened wounds were as excruciating as new ones.

He silently hoped her past wasn't as painful as he thought it was. He'd hate to see her cry again.

"Only I and Merlin, the greatest wizard in all the land, were present. I moved toward the stone, reaching for the handle. Before I could close my fingers around it, Merlin told me, "Before you attempt this, Arturia, I suggest you give great thought on regards to what you are about to commit to. Once you take that sword in hand, there is no returning. You will no longer be a mere human being.""

Saber sighed, closing her eyes. She tilted her head back to rest on the tree trunk. "Those words have haunted me ever since. As days became years, I realized that Merlin was right."

Lancer watched curiously, awaiting the story's continuation. He thought she looked slightly different with her hair down. She looked more...peaceful, as if she'd never seen the destruction brought by war or the effects of battle. Her golden locks swayed with the wind. Her eyes were beautiful and delicate, lips soft and pink.

_What on Earth am I thinking?_

His eyes left Arturia, focusing instead on the tiny flowers in the grass before him.

The girl continued her tale, eyes still shut. "I know…I have come here to free this sword on my own volition," said I, gripping the handle with both my hands. I recall the look on Merlin's face when I pulled out the magic sword. His eyes widened. His mouth was agape. It slid out smoothly, like a sword would leave a sheath." She smiled fondly.

"It was heavy then. It weighed down my arms as I held it up before me and marvelled at its beauty. The sword in the stone was too big for me; it reached almost to my chest at its full length. Merlin draped a long rich cape over my shoulders; more than half of the fabric trailed behind me as we marched through the kingdom. Upon reaching the King's quarters, he said to me solemnly, "I am sorry, Arturia, for such a great burden has been placed on the shoulders of such a young girl. Let glory and honor be on your side, my king. My life is yours. Though I am but one man, let my life be compensation for your sacrifice. Let it be this kingdom's gift of thanks," the man said, bowing."

Diarmuid's eyes drifted back to the woman he was facing. Her eyes were open now, focused on the canopy of leaves that bore the same colour. The corners of her mouth pulled downward. Aside from that, she remained blank, eyes refusing to show emotion.

"I was born and raised for that day. I played the role of Arthur Pendragon, the perfect king, the king my father had meant for me to be. There was no room for error, no time for wrong. All the teachings of my foster father, Sir Ector, finally became of use to me. I sharpened my skills in all aspects; my skill with the sword became best in the land. Merlin even made me master Mana Release."

Diarmuid raised his eyebrows.  _So she's not only skilled, but she uses mana for her strength as well?_

_"_ That skill proved useful many times. Don't you agree, Diarmuid?" she asked, remembering the duels she shared with her fellow knight. My strategies led to numerous victories. The Knights of the Round Table were ever loyal, staying by my side and leading the rest of my troops. "Our King is the god of battle. He may always be found leading the charge. He has never tasted defeat. No one can stand in King Arthur's way," my subjects used to say. "His countenance has remained the same ever since he drew the sword of choosing! Our King does not age! Truly, he is the embodiment of the dragon!" they said."

Arturia paused, and in those few quiet moments he saw her bite her lip.

"It sounds like you lived the life of another," he commented. He could already feel the air around her getting heavy, as if she had a huge burden on her shoulders.

"Perhaps I did. My dreams were dreams for my country. My actions were in the hopes of bringing my country glory. I played Arthur Pendragon so well that I even agreed to marry like any King should. The finest lady of the land, Lady Guinevere became Arthur's wife. We agreed to abide by the customs though I held no love for her. Instead, she and Lancelot...ahh... She became a close friend of mine. Guinevere had as close a friendship with me as Irisveil," Saber explained.

_Lancelot?_

"I..." For a moment, Saber's eyebrows crossed, like she had felt a sudden pain.

Diarmuid wanted to stop her right there.

"Before I had Camelot, I had to defeat Vortigern. The man had turned into a ferocious black dragon, the very avatar of Britain itself. In his last moments, he told me this "Child of my brother Uther. You cannot save this kingdom. You cannot win against mankind. Because the age of mystery had ended. The coming age is the age of civilization, the age of mankind. The power that is in your essence is at odds with humans. As long as you exist, Britain has no future. Curse your fate. The Old Britain has ended long ago."

The young king had her hand out in front of her, her expression so forlorn and lost. "Perhaps I should have listened to him."

Her hand clenched into a fist.

"The King cannot understand the hearts of his people." These words began being spoken in the corners of the kingdom. I began to drift apart from my comrades. They left one after the other, and before I realized it the Round Table was almost unoccupied. I couldn't comprehend why they had distanced themselves from me. "

The face she wore now was full of confusion, and she absent-mindedly clenched and unclenched her fist.

"And to add to the growing unrest, Lancelot, my strongest knight, had been meeting Guinevere in secret. The kingdom demanded that I punish her and my knight, but I chose to forgive them. More of my knights deserted me. It seemed my decision was not taken well. I knew the people were frustrated with me. There was never a moment when I didn't feel cornered or alone."

So…what happened was to be expected. While the King was out on an expedition, he left the kingdom on an unstable foundation. A rebellion was raised that divided the kingdom in two. "The Battle of Camlann" took place. What was once a beautiful kingdom was torn down to the ground. I returned and seized the kingdom once again. I fought my last battle with my domain barely holding on its own. But to do that...I had to kill a traitor...In a way, she was my own child, Mordred."

Saber put her hand over her stomach as if remembering the pain. "I think that was the first time I ever cried. I knelt on land stained red by blood of both my men and my enemies. It was as if Hell itself had surfaced. Weak and bleeding, I was taken from the battlefield by Sir Bedivere and Sir Gawain, the Knight of the Sun, but the latter did not see me to the end. He cried at his deathbed blaming himself for my death. He claimed it was his own selfishness that prevented Lancelot from coming to me. Sir Bedivere was the one knight still alive who remained by my side. With the little strength I had left, I had him return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake, its creator. I met my end leaning against a tree, facing a gallant knight."

She met his eyes. Green clashed with amber. The situation dawned on him. Diarmuid's heart sank. Here she was again, leaning on a tree, facing a knight; the situation repeated itself in this goddamned afterlife. She was breathing but it seemed like a lie. The knight sighed. He really had hoped she'd escape the cruel fate he'd heard whispered by drifting Servants like himself.

"Any regrets?" he asked.

"The reason I joined the Holy Grail war was to wish that someone more worthy would pull the sword from the stone...The only thing I worry about now is Britain, I wonder how my land is doing, after I left it so suddenly...I am still deeply sorry, but, recently, I've come to accept my life. I haven't completely forgiven myself, but someone taught me to be proud of my accomplishments," Saber smiled at the thought of a certain redhead.

"In fact, I don't even know why we're still here... I destroyed the Holy Grail. I am supposed to have died…and ultimately ceased my role as an Epic Spirit." she stated.

_Oh._ He hadn't thought about that, but in a way he was thankful. Seeing Saber again was quite a gift.

The man shifted.

"You know, there's one thing I can't believe in your story," the man remarked, not really knowing how to answer to her statement. He changed the subject. If it was possible he'd like to prolong her stay with him for as long as he can.

"Oh," the king raised an eyebrow, "and what is that?" Diarmuid was silent for a few moments. "Was Guinevere really the finest maiden in the land?" he asked, barely over a whisper. Halfway into his statement he inwardly slapped himself.

_For what reason would I ask her that?_

"Pardon me, Diarmuid, I didn't catch that. Might you repeat your question?" Saber asked, unconsciously tilting her head to the side.

He found that small nod of hers utterly adorable.

"Ah, nevermind. It's not important," he said as he shrugged it off. The pair was enveloped in an uncomfortable silence.

_What now?_ He asked himself in his head. When was the last time he felt this flustered when speaking to a lady. Oh right.  _Never!_

Saber turned and ran her fingers across the bark of the tree. "You know, because of my duties as a king, I don't think I've ever climbed a tree," Saber said softly, her tone almost sad.

Diarmuid stood, chuckling lightly, and offered his hand to Arturia once again. "Care to give it a try?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips. The blonde took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled up. "Why not?"


	4. A Man, a Tree, a Mystery

Arturia didn't know how to climb trees, but even then, she was bad at it. Right now she was struggling to grip the bark. "Perhaps we can try an easier tree. I feel oddly out of strength," she said.

It was like she barely had any control over her muscles. It didn't make any sense. If she really had just woken up, she shouldn't feel this weak at all. But even if she did feel a bit drained, it would be much easier if she could actually  _reach_ that stupid branch. She silently cursed her small stature.

_Goodness, why should my height get in the way now?_

Lancer had said it was all right to start with the tree that had served as their shade for their conversation since it had low branches. The branches really  _were_ low. For Lancer, anyway. Said man was pursing his lips. She swore he was hiding his laughter.

_Damn that six-footer._

"Can I not just leap up there?"

"Knights do not cheat," he winked, "Besides, that's not necessary for an event like this," the knight said, smiling. The girl came close to pouting. "That is easy for you to saaa-AAAAH!" The king shrieked. Lancer lifted her up from her waist and set her down gently on the lowest branch.

_Easy as lifting a feather._ Diarmuid noted.

She gripped the bark like there was no tomorrow, desperately trying to still herself.

"Your face is all red. Is something the matter?" The knight asked as if nothing happened.

She brought her hand to her face. That sudden rush was a bit too much. "No, no, I was just taken by surprise...You have my thanks," Saber said regaining her composure.

"Though I wouldn't say that that was not cheating," she teased, easily receiving a chuckle from the man.

As soon as her eyes left him to see the view in front of her, she gasped.  _Beautiful_. She could see so far from here. She'd never really known the world could look so vast, not from a low tree anyway. This little tree seemed so lucky. Saber didn't know what she'd give to see a wonderful view like this every day.

Why didn't she ever try this before?

Back on the ground, Diarmuid smiled. She looked so amazed, just like a child taken to the ocean for the first time.

A breeze blew her hair into her face. Lancer watched as she ran her fingers through her golden locks. Her hair looked so smooth, yet that one stubborn strand refused to go down. It suited her though, adding a bit of cuteness and rebellion to her look. He blew at his own stubborn bang.

Her eyes caught the sunlight, shining like emeralds.

_God, she's beautiful._ Lancer found himself in a familiar situation. There was a beautiful girl sitting on a low branch of a tree.

_Saber, Guinevere couldn't have possibly been the finest lady of the land._

There he was, looking up at her.

_Your subjects don't know how to look._

But, this time it was different.

_The most beautiful lady in the land could not be Guinevere._

It wasn't the girl who was in love with him.

_It's you._

It was-

"Diarmuid."

She called out, and when he looked, her eyes were filled with an immeasurable pain.

"There's something…something I need to tell you."

the same expression of anguish he'd seen on a knight who was deceived by a trusted friend, the same excruciating feeling he'd felt when Fionn had left him to die, the same countenance Saber herself had shown him when his cursed Master had ordered him to—

"You dare try to speak to my future wife, mongrel?"

An arrogant voice interrupted his thoughts.

Two pairs of eyes widened in disbelief?

That voice…that tone could it be…?

Red eyes and blonde hair materialized in the air next to Saber. She stiffened, but remained in her position, watching the man form from gold dust. So it was him… the man who looked like he was made in the heavens yet had the mind of someone hell born, the king who'd constantly mocked her very life, the vain devil who though he could seduce her with pretty words.

She  _hated_  him.

And yet for a brief moment, just before he'd died by her hand in the Grail war, she thought she'd seen…

Seen…

_Something_.

"Gilgamesh," she said simply, acknowledging his presence, though slightly annoyed.

"I'm touched you used my real name, Saber. This means you finally return my feelings, does it not?" his eyes glinted. "I have not forgotten my promise," the gold man smirked, "I am sure you haven't either."

At this, the female scoffed and turned away from the man she so abhorred.

_Gilgamesh? Archer's true identity is Gilgamesh? What feelings? What promise?_ Questions plagued the Irish knight's mind. Well whatever they were talking about, he didn't like it.

More so since he figured they'd met recently.

_After_  he died.

Eyebrows twitching, the knight patiently watched the King of Heroes, ready to act if the lady wished him to.

_What was that basta—_ man… _doing here anyway?_  What awful timing. He was rather enjoying his time alone with his— with  _the_ King of Knights. Really, couldn't he have waited just a few minutes, no, hours longer? Irritated orange eyes flew to the blonde, heavily armoured King.

Gilgamesh was now seated on the farther end of the branch, daringly close to Saber. Lancer didn't like Archer ten years ago, and his opinion did not change. There was just something about the arrogant king that got on his nerves. Besides the arrogance, of course.

Oh, and then there was the fact that he was stealing Saber's attention.

_What?_

Lancer inwardly slapped himself. He did not like where his thoughts were going.

As the knight lectured himself within his mind, the two kings had started an odd conversation.

"You know, Saber," the blonde man started, and for once, the irritating smirk he'd always sported disappeared from his face.

"I really did have fun."

Her eyes widened and she turned toward him in disbelief, jaw agape and everything. There it was again. The expression he'd worn when he looked at her just before he died. His gaze wasn't piercing, nor vain, nor cold. It was…warm.

_Had Archer actually spoken kindly?_

"And now that we have been reunited, I shall make you mine!" the king laughed.

_Of course not._

Half-heartedly, the girl watched his countenance change back to the condescending face he always wore. She detested that look. A shame. Had he kept that warm gaze on a little longer, she might have actually tried to tolerate him.

The British woman displayed a face no different from her usual calm demeanour, the Irishman observed, but she looked, just the slightest bit disappointed. What had been going on in her head, he wondered. And just what had happened between the two Kings? They acted as if they'd just met. That couldn't have been possible.

_Unless…_

Diarmuid felt something go off in his head.

_That lucky bastard._

Lancer silently watched Archer. For some reason, the man was getting on his nerves. Why was he even reacting this way? Appearing in a Grail war twice was not entirely impossible, wasn't it? Saber appeared twice too right? Still, the blonde man was definitely suspicious. His gaze turned into a glare. Gilgamesh was unpredictable; therefore, he was a threat. Threats must be eliminated immediately to ensure safety, right?

Lancer's glare was met with a scorching irate glower.

"Who gave you permission to gaze upon me, mongrel?" The king snarled, metal ringing as he clenched his fist. The knight deliberately ignored the tantrum, and continued unfazed and unafraid.

"Forgive me for disturbing your...interaction, but I think you should come down from there," Lancer said, taking note of his lavish heavy armor.

_What was that?_ Saber thought she heard something.  _Must've been the wind._

"Oh," said Gilgamesh, raising an eyebrow as his scowl deepened, "and what gives you the authority to order around a king, you worm?"

_There it is again._ Saber thought. The girl looked around for the source.

"You and I were both slaves to the will of our masters. That puts us in the same class, does it not?" Lancer retorted, eyebrows crossed, as he moved to the ground under Saber.

"HAH! I'm the King of Heroes. YOU are but a mere knight! A dog!" the blonde man exclaimed, eyes growing ever more irritated.

***Crack*** Saber's attention was directed to where the tree branch connected with the trunk. It ruptured.

_Oh no._

"Don't put me on the same level as you, you MONG—!"

***CRAAAACK!***

There was a silent fleeting moment before gravity decided to act on the blondes. Gilgamesh fell rather undignified, crashing to the ground on his royal behind. Diarmuid extended his arms, already prepared to catch Saber. He caught her in a hugging fashion, her chin resting on his shoulder.

_She's too light...I expected her to be heavier considering her strength. Maybe she relied on Mana release more than I thought._

The knight set her down gently. "Thank you, Lancer, but that wasn't necessary. I am fully capable of handling myself," the girl said, fixing her dress, a light blush being the only indication that she was embarrassed, and maybe more than a little flustered. The knight chuckled a bit, pleased and quite charmed by her reaction.

"True, but that wouldn't have been very knightly, would it," Diarmuid took her hand and brought it to his lips, bowing gracefully.

"My lady."

"Mongrel..." a menacing tone cut the atmosphere, interrupting the knights just before Lancer could touch her skin.

The pair turned, remembering they had company _._  "You dare forget my presence?! I am your king. Respect your ruler! It is enough of an insult that I am to stand on the same ground as you." The raven-haired knight sighed, his moment spoiled. Saber's eyebrow twitched.

_For a king, you're quite impossible. If only I didn't feel so worn out, I'd have smacked some sense into him._

She disagreed with this king's ways of ruling. He was much too demanding of his subjects, treating them like slaves and forcing them into impossible works. He was a spoiled king and no one dared stand against him. Saber thought of her subjects as comrades and saw her people as ones to be protected and guarded with her own life. A king like Gilgamesh was simply  _unacceptable_.

"And you!" Gilgamesh pointed an accusing finger at the spearman. "You should know that Saber belongs to ME!"

_Saber swore she could hear a vein pop in her head._ "King of Heroes, I do not-"

Saber stopped mid-sentence, interrupted by the change in the air. The temperature dropped and the air was heavy.

_Magic?_

Suddenly the servants felt their mana flare, reacting to the sudden burst of magic. A current flowed through Saber's mana circuits, suddenly filling her with so much energy, only to dissipate like mist as if it was never there. The heavy, mysterious fatigue settled on her shoulders again.

_What on Earth?_

"What was that?" The king locked eyes with her two companions. They felt it too.

"It seems someone's looking for us." The King of Heroes said, disinterestedly, "If you haven't noticed, Saber, we're not the only Servants present in this...realm." Gilgamesh voiced, a tinge of weariness evident in his tone.

To anyone else, there was nothing amiss, but to a fellow king…

Green eyes took in the Mesopotamian king's image. His shoulders were slouched slightly. Behind those red eyes hid exhaustion. No commoner would have noticed the change in the king, but Saber had been one herself. Something wasn't right.

_What is going on?_

"I bet you didn't notice, mongrel." The King of heroes sneered at Lancer.

"I have noticed, King of Heroes. This realm is full of different Servants from varying eras. I was not the first to appear, nor the last. I don't know who came before me, but after my appearance here, there were several. There was Rider, followed by a tall dark haired man whom I did not recognize. After several years there was a brute, who was the ancient Greek hero, Hercules. He was followed by two more violet-haired ones, a male Assassin and an elf-like female Caster. There was another whom I did not see clearly. He was followed by you, and finally, Saber."

_Purple haired assassin? The Caster was definitely Medea. They appeared according to how they disappeared in the wars. And from both the wars too._

"Do not address me so familiarly, mongrel!"

Lancer grunted. He was  _this_  close to blowing a fuse and even closer to popping a vein. The King of Heroes definitely knew just how to anger those around him. It must have been a talent to be that audacious. Really, the man had to review his conduct. What kind of ridiculous king had this man been during his lifetime? And what about his subjects? What fools they must have been to have followed a sorry excuse for a king like him.

_King of Heroes my foot_.

_On the other hand..._

Lancer's gaze shifted to a more pleasing sight.  _Saber_. Now Saber was a king he would have been honoured to dedicate his life to. She was chivalrous. She was kind to her people. She had a strong sense of justice.

_Of course, she was suffering…_

But she certainly was worthy of being called the greatest king. Saber was—

_Saber?_

The woman had a hand clutched at her chest, like her heart had just began to hurt. Her hand was balled into a tight fist and her teeth were clenched.

Lancer rushed forward, taking her free hand . "Are you all right? What's wrong?" his voice was so full of concern, that Saber met his eyes. But just as quickly as she did she left his gaze. She was in pain, but mixed in her eyes was… _Was that guilt?_

She removed her hand from his and pointed somewhere in the distance.

"We have to go there. Something's…pulling me in that direction. It hurts to resist," Saber explained through heavy breathing. Whatever that pulse of magic did, it was clear that the caster had just taken Saber hostage.

Lancer cursed _. I should have been more careful._

"Let's go," he voiced, to Saber's surprise. "We don't have a choice now, do we?"

Saber nodded and followed, shooting Gilgamesh an undecipherable glance before catching up with Lancer.

When her green eyes left him he balled his fist up in frustration, and reluctantly followed the two knights. All the while his mind was running in circles, confused and irritated. Not at Saber, not even at that disgusting mongrel, but at himself.

_Shit._

_Shit._

_Shit._

He felt weak. He felt powerless. He wasn't himself. He was drained. He couldn't do anything. He didn't have enough mana to even use the most basic of his skills.

_Shit._

The Gate of Babylon wouldn't open.


	5. The Journey

"Oh, be silent, King of Heroes!" Lancer snapped, quite fed up, only to be answered with even more insults than he ever knew existed. A couple of them were even in Babylonian.

Lancer could only wonder how Saber could put up with this man. From the moment they'd left he'd been shooting her with several err…attempts at seduction? For the first few minutes she'd been shooting him down but at some point had just been ignoring his remarks. It was clear by how he wasn't ceasing his barrage of… whatever it was… that he couldn't take a hint. Lancer, on the other hand might actually have been more irritated at the King of Heroes than Saber herself. It just didn't seem right to let him talk to Saber like that.

"I'd say Saber is more annoyed than caring towards you, King of Heroes." Eyes of gold orange clashed with red ones.

_Saber…_

She still had her fist over her chest.

Lancer cursed.

A few minutes into their trek he'd asked if she felt better. It still stung. She told him it felt like she was being tugged by something, as if there was a string tied around her heart. The more they traveled, the less it hurt, she explained, and that's all it took for Lancer to take it upon himself to ensure they got to their destination.

"Haaah? You dare say I'm mistaken? Are you challenging a king, you swine?" Gilgamesh's snake eyes flashed with annoyance.

"I shall not tolerate these nicknames any longer. As a knight, I cannot let that slide," Lancer declared angrily.

"Neither can I. Prepare to die, mongrel!" Gilgamesh shouted.

"Stop this nonsense!" Saber half-shouted, turning to face them with her fists clenched. Realizing she had just lost her temper she drew in a breath.

"I...am going to get to the bottom of this…" she put her hand over her chest. "With or without you."

She couldn't believe she just got caught in this ridiculous curse, and now thanks to her carelessness she was stuck trying to find her way to a place that was definitely not going to be good for her. The worst of it was that she had involved Lancer and unfortunately, that other king.

_Ugh…_

She whirled herself around and quickened her pace, leaving the two men watching her retreating back. Their eyes locked like the two dogs fighting over territory.

"If only you could be less obnoxious."

"If only you could go die like the pathetic, moronic, useless piece of existence you are, mongrel."

Diarmuid sighed. "I am going after her. If you want to come along, perhaps you should keep that mouth shut, lest we lose sight of her completely."

"You do not order me around, mongrel," he replied, eyebrows twitching in annoyance, nevertheless he followed, wiping the sweat from his brow before his… _companions_  would notice.

_Shit._

_Thud._

"Nnnghh—!"

She'd only walked fifteen meters from them when she felt her heart scream. The ground wasn't a very comfortable place to land, but it was completely blocked out by the immeasurable pain that burned through her chest like lava.

"Arghh—"

It felt like she was being stabbed repeatedly in the same place. There was no physical wound. She wasn't bleeding. All she could do was try to bear it. The clenched hand she held at her chest threatened to tear her clothes. A sharp alarming sound was going off in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and block out everything. The black dizzying stars in her vision were dancing with the pain like she was some kind of joke.

Amid the rippling waves of agony she realized.

_This does not make any sense…I am moving where this curse is taking me so why…?_

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, the sting almost bringing her to tears.

_Think._

Damn it was hard to work her mind around things when everything hurt.

"Saber?"

An uncertain call from Lancer. She silently hoped the vegetation wasn't so dense that he couldn't find her. Moments like this, she hated the most…when she was helpless. Like a damsel in distress that could do nothing but wait to be saved.

Just when she was about to black out, she thought she heard footsteps, before she was lifted off the ground by the back of her dress.

"L-let me down!" she managed.

"I would  _never_  let you down, if you would simply accept my proposal and  _marry me._ "

.

.

.

He should have never let her out of his sight. Not even for a second. If this greenery wasn't so goddamned thick he'd have found her by now.

_Ugh…_

What was even more unsettling was that whoever cursed Saber had done a good job. Neither he nor…*sigh*  _Gilgamesh_  noticed anything. Now she was being forced to make her way to some unknown area, which is definitely a trap, which could endanger her, which is bad, which is completely  _his_  fault, which…

"Let go of me!"

_Saber?_

That bastard must have gotten to her first!

"Gilgamesh, if you make ANY move to harm her I swear I—"

_Oh._

He was met with two pairs of " _where-were-you?"_ eyes. He marched toward the two silently, trying to ignore that the other man's arm lingered on the small of her back.

"What happened?" he asked, suddenly wondering if he had been gone for too long a time.

"I had only made it this far when it…" Saber put her hand on her chest, "…it crippled me."

_Hm. Odd. The pain had stopped just as suddenly as it began. That made no sense. Unless…_

_Unless…_

She eyed her two companions. A gallant knight. A conceited king. Each looking at her expectantly.

"I think…you have to come with me."

.

.

.

That idea did not go very well with the two men.

"Will it not be best if we reach our destination unscathed? We can't be certain if danger awaits us or not. I am not about to drag you both there."

_I don't have the strength to do that._

The trio marched on. When Lancer had found her a few hours back, she didn't feel like herself. She felt drained. The long upward hike through the dense forest only made it worse. She kept on walking, but let Lancer take the lead, not being able to hike fast anymore. The sweat trickling down her face made her wish she had a mount right now. Sadly, summoning a mount like Iskandar or Medusa could wasn't one of her abilities. She was so exhausted, asking the King of Heroes for a ride on his plane seemed like quite the good idea.

She looked to the man who lagged behind. He looked exhausted, weighed down by his heavy gold armor.

_Perhaps not._

His movements were sloppy and he panted, clearly dead beat. His hair was out of its usual updo, and his long blonde bangs clung to his face, wet with sweat. Whatever arrogance he once had was replaced with hardship. He didn't even notice her eyes on him. She'd hate to admit it, seeing the King of Heroes like this felt like an achievement. She might even be a bit entertained if she wasn't equally as fatigued as the blonde man. Being a King, she could understand what he must be going through. Unable to keep appearances was a big blunder; that must be why he looks so agonized.

But Gilgamesh was still suspicious. No matter how tired he might look, he is still a ridiculously powerful opponent. Another thing she'd hate to admit was that she almost lost their final fight, and thought Lady Luck might have played a role in letting her win.

Besides the fact that he could be a threat, there was one other thing she couldn't seem to get her head around. The moment right before he faded to dust, he'd caressed her face, and for the first time since she'd met him she thought she saw something else besides cruelty…something entirely  _human_  that she thought impossible for him to have.

When he found her on the ground a few hours ago, she'd expected a more painful ordeal. She definitely did not expect to be let down like she asked. And it wasn't like she ignored the arm he placed protectively behind her, no matter how annoyed she was at it. She wasn't going to fall back down, nor did she need any support. Frankly it felt embarrassing, but he still did it.

_In the time it took after he disappeared till the moment we met again…perhaps he'd changed?_

She shook her head, tearing her eyes from the King of Heroes. She shouldn't be thinking about such insignificant things right now.

Saber faced front again, staring at Lancer's back.

_Why isn't he even breaking a sweat, when the King of Heroes and I are completely drained?_

There had to be something strange going on. The absurdity of the present situation was a bit much. The pull on her heart wasn't as painful. Right now it was like a light tug every now and then. By some magical force she knew…

"Halfway there," Saber's voice quivered so slightly that any normal person would have missed it, but Diarmuid had known enough proud leaders to know she was worn out, and by experience he was wise enough not to point it out.

If anyone saw them like this...well. They were Epic Spirits: Beings so powerful that their names and deeds are known throughout the world. And here they were, walking like zombies on crack _._ It didn't even end there. Two were about to drop from exhaustion. Hell, the ever aggressive Gilgamesh, who was really close to Saber right now, wasn't even making a  _move_.  _The_ Gilgamesh didn't make a move on  _Saber._  Who could ever predict this? Even Gilgamesh's prideful stance went down the drain. Lancer took one more look at the two.

_Well perhaps I should point it out._

He stopped abruptly, causing Saber to bump into him, the latter quickly mumbling an apology.

"Perhaps we should rest a moment. The sun is still high. If this is halfway, we can afford to spend an hour," the spear master said. He closed his eyes and signaled for silence, missing a questioning gaze and an annoyed glare.

_There's no doubt in my mind that I heard—there! Running water, and not too far off._

"There's a body of water to the northeast…probably. We can take a rest there," Lancer said, pointing out the way.

The armoured man groaned. The metal defense must have been heavy as hell.

"How far, mongrel?" Gilgamesh asked, thinking the mongrel must be lucky to even be having a conversation with him.

"Do I appear to be a map to you?" Lancer sarcastically replied, but satisfied by the king's undignified look, nonetheless answered the man's question.

"Fourscore measures in the least," Lancer replied. He glanced at his companions. Saber looked like she was about to collapse; Gilgamesh even more so.

"I can carry you there, King of Knights, if you wish it," Lancer offered, not wanting any harm to come to the girl.

"Oi. Mongrel. Do not even think about—"

"I shall be fine, it shames me for you to worry about such a thing," Saber interrupted, though clearly exhausted, but more discomfited. Lancer sighed, knowing she would answer that way, and reluctantly resumed walking, casting a worried glance back at her.

_They might not make it,_ he thought. The trio travelled in silence, two members too tired to make a sound.

Thankfully, Lancer was right about the water. They reached a small waterfall that emptied into a clear pool. Gilgamesh was too relieved that he raced to the water and brought the cold liquid to his mouth with his hands. His shoulders relaxed as he continued to drink. The King must've forgotten his status and arrogance, as he was gulping down the water even without a fine wine glass or a chalice.

Lancer stared at the King, sending a thankful prayer to the gods that there really was a spring here.

"We made it, Saber," Lancer said, walking slowly towards the waterfall.

"Saber?" he called out, only to be answered only by silence.

Red snake eyes and gold eyes raced to the young woman. She was pale, and she looked like she was about to—

"SABER!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was high school when I wrote these chapters, so you'll see the way I write begin to change. Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review to tell me what you think! :)
> 
> akampana


	6. Pool of Thought

He'd always seen Saber as the headstrong, confident knight he met ten years ago, the same beautiful young face that traded blows with him with such pride and honor that he couldn't help but be in awe of the woman. He still did, still viewed her as the warrior he met back then, except now he glimpsed the other side of the coin, the side Saber tried so hard to hide, the part of her he  _knew_  in the back of his mind existed yet didn't acknowledge, the face she never showed to  _anyone._  He finally understood why she always kept on that solid facade.

His arms looped around her just before she hit the stony terrain, a sigh escaping his lips in relief. A few meters away, Diarmuid saw the King of Heroes had frantically scrambled his way to the woman, and stood frozen, now that she was safe. It terrified him, and left him troubled, that the King of Heroes mirrored his own expression: one that was panicked, chaotic, and concerned at the same time. Troubled him because the King was showing he actually cared, and it terrified him that such a little girl could invoke such a strong feeling in him…in  _them._  Saber always put on a strong front because in the very rare occurrence it collapsed, it utterly destroyed the people around her. Just like how it rattled the King of Heroes and himself. Diarmuid looked away from red-eyes; there were much more important things to be dealt with, and the current matter was shoved into the back of his mind like a bad memory best forgotten.

Important things, meaning the unconscious female knight he had safely circled in his arms.

 _That was too close_ ,  _she could have gotten hurt._

His lips curled downward into a grim line. Each time he touched her he was reminded she was frail: too small to be a warrior, too thin to have ever been able to wield a sword, and yet she could stand against him with ease. But collapsed and slack in his arms, the woman seemed as vulnerable as a child, and as fragile as a sheet of glass. He was too anxious to move her for fear she would shatter, and he'd be left alone again amid her broken pieces.

Inwardly, he gave himself a good, hard slap to the face. Saber wasn't a brittle piece of crystal, and when he looked at her it was still the mesmerizing knight that he saw. It's just…the more time he spent with her, the more it was getting harder to ignore the soft lips, the tiny frame, the lovely features that made Arturia a lady, and conversely stirred in him the overwhelming need to protect her.

Sharp stones poked at his soles from the rocky ground. This was certainly not the most ideal place to lay her down. With an ease that came with being such a strong knight, he got up gracefully, securing her in his arms, and looked for a comfortable place to bring Saber. As he moved, her head hung limp and her arms lazily dangled at her sides like an abused ragdoll's. The man's frown deepened. What would have happened if he wasn't there with her? His eyes snuck to the other man they were travelling with. What if she was alone with  _Gilgamesh_?

Diarmuid turned away. He was here. What-ifs hardly signified anymore.

Except for one.

What if Gilgamesh was the one who caught her? What then?

Questions plagued his mind as much as the girl did.

If Lancer's thoughts tormented him, Gilgamesh's exploded into a chaotic mix of murder, irritation, and frustration. Lancer was turned away from the lake, unaware of the glare a very pissed off Archer was sending him.

 _Tch_.

It had been a while since he'd had to remove his armor manually, and he did it with such ferocity that the gold clanged around him as they hit the hard rocks. He threw off the black garment he wore underneath the metal, as if trying to discard the inner turmoil that had been scratching at him to do  _torture_  that irksome, sex-deprived stud.

If there was anything keeping the King of Heroes at bay, it was that Saber was still very  _infuriatingly_  secure in that mongrel's arms and as much as his nerves popped at the idea that it wasn't  _he_ that caught her in her weakness, he had to be thankful someone had caught her at all. The rocks looked brutal enough to inflict some sort of damage, and even if they couldn't exactly die anymore, it couldn't hurt to be careful.

That did nothing to quell his fury at all, and it burned through his veins like the venom of those snakes he hated so much. Balled fists shook as he plunged himself back in the water to calm himself. A few minutes later, he would realize throwing punches at the water only made him more agitated, because the water evaded him the same way she'd always slipped between his fingers right when he thought he had her.

 _Saber_ …

It was a miracle he could find her again, and he wasn't going to waste it. He was puzzled, to say the least, when he'd awoke in the Throne of Heroes, when he was so sure Saber would see to it that the Grail was destroyed, but that ended up being beneficial to him, since it allowed him to see her again. Correspondingly, he had another chance to right things, except this time, that sorry excuse for a hero that had been such a pain ten years ago was back to block his way.

The worst thing was he couldn't do anything about it, because he could barely even support his own weight. From the pool he focused his energy on his castoff pieces of armor, hoping to make them disappear into his Gate, and was more exasperated to find out he could barely make them shimmer.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

He slumped into the shallow pool, picking up stones and crushing them in his fingers to vent his aggravation. Gilgamesh seriously hated feeling this weak. The last time he felt this way was...when he died. He felt increasingly pathetic. He went away from the water for  _nothing,_  he was tired and exhausted and and and and he was  _actually_  rushing to  _save_ Saber.  _That girl better be damn thankful,_ he thought. Why the hell did that  _swine_  have to get to her first? He closed his eyes and slipped into the water, hoping it would dissolve the chaos in his head.

Suddenly, the energy he was robbed of came surging back through his veins like a storm. Fatigue left his body so fast as if he'd had a week's worth of rest in an instant.

 _Magic?_  He opened his eyes, scanning the pool of water before him, and ultimately landing on the shining crystal shards that pierced his hand. He brought his fingers out of the water to examine what was left of the stone he'd destroyed. The bluish pieces stuck to his blood, but as if time were turning back, he watched his broken skin mend itself, the blue crystal shards disappearing into the wound like it had never been there.  _Interesting._

"Mongrel."

Diarmuid was still holding Saber, looking for a comfortable place to put her down. Gilgamesh felt a tinge of jealousy, rising in his throat.

 _Why the hell is that bastard still holding her?_ The knight turned to him.

"Bring me my wife."

The knight hesitated, tightening his grip on her protectively. This only frustrated Gilgamesh more.

"Use those hideous eyes of yours, lowlife."

Reluctantly, Diarmuid approached the pool, hugging the unconscious girl close to his chest. The body of water was shallow along the edges, yet after a few feet sank into a deep cave. His eyes settled on the rocks that got Gilgamesh's attention. So, the arrogant one was trying to help after all. Diarmuid walked into the water until it reached his waist and slowly let Saber into the pool. He kept his arm on her back to support her and cradled her head with his other hand so she could breathe. She relaxed, like the water relieved her of all stress. When she looked like that, it felt comforting; it almost convinced Diarmuid that he'd never seen her faint at all.

"I'll do that, mongrel. You retrieve the crystals," Gilgamesh ordered, pulling Saber away from the knight. Diarmuid scowled, but knowing Saber would heal faster, waded to the deep.

"That's right worm. It's only fitting you obey those higher than you. Ha!" Gilgamesh smirked.

The spearman glared daggers at the arrogant king. "I shall never submit to you. This is for her," Lancer said as he pointed to the sleeping Saber.

"If you do anything to her," his eyes glistened with the ferocity of a lion, "I will kill you."

Diarmuid turned and dove, swimming down toward the nearest crystal, instantly feeling its effects on his skin. It felt ridiculously invigorating, and he wasn't even tired. If it did this to him, it would do wonders to Saber. Even just imagining her vivid green eyes open again sprouted a warm feeling in his chest, so he tugged at the crystal with vigor.

_Eh?_

The jewel stuck firm to the stone it was set in, and the small bubbles that escaped his lips did nothing to ease his worries.

_This is going to take a while._

.

.

.

"Vile woman, why do you still resist me?" he said gently, so she would not wake. He found his fingers tracing her jawline before they rested on her chin. His eyes filled with amusement. How was it possible for someone to be so beautiful? That she had shown a moment of weakness before him troubled him a little bit but he knew that even when she looked like this, delicate and exposed, she had every ability to bounce back.

"Yet now, you're weak and defenseless." He leaned down closer to her sleeping form. Her hair was a golden halo around her head, swaying gently with the flow of the water. She wasn't awake yet, what's a little fun?

"How shall you defend against this, oh beautiful King of Knights?" He tilted her head up slowly, not taking her from her dreams. The centimeters that separated them taunted him, daring him to close the little gap that divided him from his queen. His bangs skimmed her forehead at their proximity, and when their noses touched, they shared breaths.

Funny. He hadn't heard his heart hammer like this in ages. It throbbed in his ears like a steady bass drum. Oh, he was excited, and her lips looked way too enticing to possibly resist.

_Maybe I should go ahead and indulge._

Her eyes opened.

_Oh. Shit._

In the next fleeting moment, she stared at him uncomprehending before Gilgamesh felt her fist connect with his face.

He recoiled, hand over his aching cheek. Gilgamesh spat blood as the inner part of his cheek continued to bleed.

"Wha-What in heaven's name are you doing?!" Saber shrieked as she thrashed about in the water, struggling to get her footing. The other King screamed back, "YOU SHOULD BE—Oh." Gilgamesh paused mid-rant. "Why, you're all red, Saber. So you have finally opened up to your true feelings for me."

"Nonsense!" She retorted, bringing her hands to her face, instantly surprised it felt hot. While her mind detested the gold-loving man and she knew,  _she knew_ , how much she despised him, her own body betrayed her. But she couldn't help it! She'd spent her entire life acting a male, only to have that farce forcibly shattered by the second Emiya, and then suddenly she's being treated like a woman, which is the entire opposite of what she used to be! Then, that inhumane creature who called himself a King was trying to  _kiss_ her? True, she'd been open enough to allow him to touch her when he said his last words, but the very little hope she developed that he'd changed was quickly snuffed out by this little piece of harassment he'd done.

"No point in trying to hide it, Saber," he teased, wiping off the blood on his lip with the back of his hand.

"Silence! What is this place? Why are you undressed?" she questioned, still uncharacteristically panicky.

"You tell me to be silent and yet ask for answers? Stupid woman."

"But—" Saber protested.

"Why am I dressed this way? Then should I take this off too—" The other king said, hands moving to the gold cord that held the garment up.

"Absolutely not! This is not how a ruler should conduct himself!" The female king screeched.

"But you were implying that—!"

It was then that Lancer surfaced, carrying a big crystal in his hands. He panted slightly, his wet, wavy hair clinging to his face. Sunset eyes flew from Saber to Archer. Blood trickled from Gilgamesh's lips and Saber was red as a tomato.

Eyes trailed after him as Lancer waded to Saber. He took her hand and closed her fingers around the crystal he brought. Saber's eyes brightened, her strength returning. "Glad to see you awake," Lancer smiled. Then he turned to Gilgamesh and scowled. "As for you, remember our deal?"

"Hah! You think you can kill me, the almighty owner of this universe?"

The Knight of Fianna smirked, causing the King's smug smile to disappear.

"One, you're not at full strength, while I am," The knight felt the surge of power from the crystal just moments ago. " And I've been here for much, much longer," Lancer said. The King of Heroes was scowling now.

"Two, you're useless without your Gate of Babylon. Right now, you don't even have the strength to summon a chalice."

The King of Heroes grit his teeth, clearly offended. But he was right. His magic circuits couldn't even support returning his armor to his treasury.

"Three, between the two of us, I am taller, heavier, stronger than you and have greater skill in hand-to-hand combat. But," Lancer paused. He swept his hand to the side and his long red spear materialized in his hand. "I am much better with a weapon." Lancer drew it back, ready to throw Gae Dearg.

"Prepare yourself, King of Heroes!"

"Wait."

Lancer stopped mid-throw, barely catching the spear by its tail. He glanced back at the woman behind him.

"We have to reach the area before sundown. I'm positive that our summoner wants all of us present. At this point, it will be best to play it safe," said the female blonde, who had regained her normal calm demeanor.

Sighing, Lancer resumed his usual casual stance, thinking Saber was right after all. Although the King would reappear somewhere else if killed here, it would take ages to find him. But though it wasn't like him, he couldn't help but wish he could skewer the King of Heroes through the chest. It ought to teach him some sort of lesson. Even if it didn't, the mere absence of the king would do loads to his emotional state. It's not like the King of Heroes would disappear permanently, anyway. They could always find him whenever they were in need of his help, which given Saber's and his own power combined, would be never. Now  _that,_  was an idea.  _But_ , sadly it seemed Arturia needed Goldy right now, as per her request, and it certainly was out of the question to deny a reasonable wish, especially one from the King of Knights.

"If you wish it, I shall follow, King of Knights," Lancer said, letting Gae Dearg dissipate into the air in front of him.

That the King of Heroes felt insulted was an understatement. To be at the mercy of a simple dog? Pathetic! He was the King of All, heaven be damned, he was a  _god!_  How could he let a mongrel even think they had the upper hand? But every time he tried to use his mana, his nerves would burn from the strain, accomplishing nothing, and frustrating him even more.

The healing crystal was held out to him at arm's length, offered to him by the King of Knights, who seemed to have regained the vitality he so adored. When he turned away, she didn't allow him to refuse, rather forcefully placing it in his arms. The sudden surge of relief didn't appease him as much as the brush of her fingers did. When they weren't hitting his face or holding a sword to his throat, they seemed quite soft.

Unfortunately, the crystal seemed to only heal physically, and though the blonde was slowly regaining his prana as he rested, that didn't mean he had the capacity to attack anyone. That would be completely all right with Gilgamesh, as his treasures need not be dirtied by the blood of the scum of the Earth, but right now the only one with an acceptable amount of mana was that miffing dog that dared call itself a knight.

But for now…with a wave of his hand and a smile that was more of relief than satisfaction, he succeeded in returning his armor through one of his golden gates. He winced at the sting, but he'd die before admitting his exhaustion, especially in front of Saber. He'd done well to keep face till now, but maybe the impatience that drove him to dematerialize to find Saber was a bit of a stretch. At least, that effort had not been in vain. To think that dog would dare touch Saber was just disgusting. What foolishness! Saber did not deserve to be level with the mongrels. Clearly the dog must be blind if it cannot see the difference between her and himself. No ruler would ever lower herself to the ranks of the hounds. What queen would do such a derogatory thing?

A snap of his fingers, and he reappeared fully clothed in his wide-necked shirt and snakeskin pants. Lancer and Saber got on the shore as well. The girl's dress clung to her curves tightly as water droplets danced in trails from her hair, to her neck, before falling to the stony ground. The white of the dress hid nothing, now that the water turned it translucent, and the silk warped around her frame so closely, it almost left nothing to the imagination.

"Nice view."

The words slipped from the blonde king's mouth before he could stop them, a wicked grin finding its way to the corners of his lips. Despite himself, Diarmuid's eyes wandered before he caught himself and looked away, muttering an embarrassed apology.

Saber crossed her arms over her chest, her face a shade of red darker. Why? She didn't know. She had no problem with things like this; she was a knight! There were times in the field of war where the battle was too close to be embarrassed about being seen nude. Her servants had seen her bare for most of her kingship. There was Kay too, and his father, and even Merlin. The eyes of men on her body had never made her feel conscious of herself, except for that one time when Shirou—! When Shirou… The woman's eyes darkened at the mere thought of his name. But these two men  _weren't_  Shirou. Diarmuid was a knight, and Gilgamesh an unreasonable king. Why should she feel so uncomfortable? All this could be solved if she could  _just_ phase into her battle dress, which by the horrid sting that tingled in her magic circuits was apparently not even an option.

A loud snap took her from her thoughts, and in the next instant a big black jacket materialized over her shoulders and an elegant dress shirt and jeans materialized in her hands. She didn't even need to look to know they were gifts from the King of Heroes. This would be the second time she'd received something from the King of Uruk. First, the finest wine she'd ever tasted from the banquet of kings, and now, these garments which looked to be the finest the modern world could offer.

"Saber, even humiliated you look beautiful; fitting for my wife. And though I enjoyed that little display, I shall not allow any mongrels to see you in such a pitiful state. That right is mine and mine alone."

The short woman's eyebrows crossed. "I do not belong to anyone, King of Heroes."

_Not yet, you don't._

The woman moved swiftly through the vegetation. She wouldn't allow any more of an exposition, so she hid a little distance away. The clothes didn't let her mind stray from the King of Heroes and his red eyes, because she swore he winced just a little when he'd summoned those clothes. Just a little, not enough to be noticed by the indifferent mind. It would make sense that the King of Heroes was just as worn out as she was. They had just come from their own battle, which ultimately, he ended up defeated. His circuits should be near empty, like hers. Why would he go out of his way for her, when it was too clear he'd only ever seen her as an object?

_The King of Heroes is being generous today._

Suddenly, it didn't feel so impossible that he'd changed.

…

Because Lancer was a gentleman, he turned away from the bush Saber hid behind to change. She must not have so careful in choosing a hiding place. Women were not objects, and they should be respected, particularly Saber. He had been treated like an object for far too long a time. There was no way he'd ever do the same to Arturia. The King of Heroes was wise enough not to push his luck. It was enough of a treat to see Saber so exposed, but if he wanted a queen, he should treat her as one. She did not let them wait long, and appeared in the attire Gilgamesh provided.

Saber glanced at Lancer, still drenched from head to toe. His hair stuck to his face instead of his usual hairstyle.

"Would you be so kind as to provide clothes for Lancer as well?"

Gilgamesh thought to himself.  _Mongrels don't deserve the rich clothing of Kings._ But seeing Saber, who watched the other man run a hand through his dark hair, through the corner of his eye sent his stomach churning.

Jealousy hits hard.

Gilgamesh waved his hand and threw the clothes that materialized at Lancer, which prompted Saber to send him a stern look. Well at least now her attention was off of Lancer.

The raven-haired man caught them, throwing a suspicious glance in the King's direction, before reappearing in a white button-down and jeans.

_Modern clothes?_

"King of Heroes, why do you have these garments?" Saber asked. She didn't even have either of the outfits she wore in the modern world. Lancer didn't even wear a modern outfit.

"I spent much more time in the modern world than either of you. I had to do  _something._ "

"Then why do you have feminine clothes?"

…

The sun was still high in the sky as the trio marched on, and as the two blondes needed to regain their mana, they once again resorted to walking. The tugging in Saber's chest had stopped completely following her collapse, but now that they'd taken their short respite, it began to throb again, as if prompting them to move. Lancer took the lead again as the vegetation began to thicken. He swatted at the overgrown forest green with his red spear, clearing a path for the two Kings.

_The forest…somehow seems familiar. Did I pass here sometime before?_

"Lancer," Saber called.

The knight jumped, snapping out of his trance. "Is something the matter?" the woman asked.

"Nothing of the sort. Do you know where we are, Arturia?"

The girl felt oddly surprised. She still wasn't used to her own name. Well, except for when she told Diarmuid about it, but that was an introduction. She supposed Gilgamesh might know, but he wasn't even listening to the conversation.

"Not in the least," she replied.

Lancer raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain? We have all been here before," Lancer said. That was…weird. She should have figured it out by now since it has been a few hours.

At this, the King of Knights gave Diarmuid a questioning glance.

He ran his fingers through his hair saying, "We've been here since we died."

Saber felt the fog in her mind clear up a bit. She knew that. So this is the Throne of Heroes, huh? Her eyes drifted to the taller man's back. Should she tell him?

That she'd never died till recently?

That is was her first time here?

Should she?

"We wake up here in the state we are in when we died. The first time was when we entered a contract with the Grail, and when we are defeated in the war, we end up here again. That's probably why both of you were weak when you appeared here. Whenever one of us Epic Spirits accepts a summoning to fight for the Holy Grail, we are transported out of here, and into the real world. When we are defeated, we experience the way we originally died again. Before waking up here after my defeat in the Holy Grail War, I had to be fatally wounded by the enchanted boar again and had to be left to die. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in this realm again, in the state I was in when Fionn left me at death's door," Lancer said.

 _Makes sense._  Saber thought.

"It is depressing, really. How many times must we be tormented by our death before this cursed Grail is satisfied?" The corners of his lips turned up in a painful smile.

"We are immortalized here, never aging. Spirits can eat or drink if they want, but hunger never seems to matter. We can even use our abilities and Noble Phantasms here. I have never explored the entire area. It goes on and on. In some areas of this realm there are castles. In other parts there are arenas where Spirits test their skills. We cannot die in any case. If we do disappear, we just come back," the Celtic one explained, waving his hands in the air as he did so.

"There are oddities though, like how we can still feel things as if we were alive, or how we wake up here as disoriented as we were the first time. Personally, I think we have to be shown our deaths over and over again so our desire for the Grail never wavers. I've been here for ten years since the Grail War I took part in and I remember everything. What I don't understand is why neither you nor Archer ever appeared till today."

 _So Gilgamesh really had stayed behind after the 4_ _th_ _war._  Saber thought.

"This is the Throne of Heroes, a realm created by the Grail solely to house Servants for the War," Lancer announced. The blondes he addressed remained silent, realizing that this was their fate. There was no afterlife; there was no rebirth, no heaven or hell for the Epic Spirits. There was only this sort of purgatory that chained them to Earth: the Holy Grail.

"Welcome home."


	7. The Summoned

She almost wanted to think they were just three friends exploring the woods together; that he was no king, that he was no knight, and that she was no king of knights. They could easily be mistaken as such, wearing modern fashion, walking with swinging arms, bickering every now and then. But happy thoughts like that didn't exist in their world did it?

Breathing was becoming more and more difficult. Her heart strained to beat under the pressure of the magic curse, but she willed herself to stay calm.

_Breathe, Arturia…Breathe…_

She kept her breaths even and bit back whimpers of pain, hoping to the heavens and beyond that Gilgamesh of all people would not notice. She stopped herself from looking back to check on him. At least he couldn't see her face. That made things much simpler.

_Nearly…there…_

She focused her vision forward on Lancer's back to keep herself from blacking out, but as he blurred and defocused, she knew she couldn't take much more of this stupid curse.

Lancer turned around with an eyebrow raised as if he was expecting an answer.

"My apologies, but I didn't quite hear you," she voiced, masking the strain with an apologetic smile.

Another eyebrow rose. "You must be exhausted. I merely suggested a brief respite."

"You worry too much. This is nothing compared to the challenges I faced in training."

The knight shot her a look, but turned and kept walking.

"If you say so…"

She watched his retreating back, wondering if she'd put up a good enough act. Arturia wanted this over with. The sooner they got there, the better. Every time they stopped, the pain only seemed to worsen. Another break was the last thing she needed. It hurt her pride enough that she fainted not long ago, and in front of the worst type of audience, no less.

"If you think you can fool me, you are mistaken, little girl."

The King of Heroes passed her on the right, eyebrows crossed and hands shoved in his pockets, leaving Arturia alone with her thoughts.

Fists clenched, she walked on.

…

It was hours before Saber talked again. The woman looked so weary, Diarmuid felt guilty for not insisting on another break.

"We've arrived."

Arturia breathed the words out in relief, feeling the bonds around her heart loosen. At the very least, the curse was over. Air had never tasted so sweet. She relished her unburdened breathing so much that she'd almost missed the beauty of the nature that surrounded her.

If the Garden of Eden did exist, then it would have to be here. Hidden within the dense forest they were travelling through was a clearing dotted with round white boulders. Colorful petals peeked up over a rolling green carpet of grass as if reaching towards the expansive blue sky. The breeze made the grass ripple as it twirled through the tiny bright meadow. Birds sang as if they were welcoming her into the little paradise. She held out her open palm, feeling the sunlight's warmth dance on her fingertips. Everything looked so surreal, like it was pulled out of child's storybook and brought to life before her eyes.

She tried to lock eyes with the other knight to thank him, but when she beheld the man, his eyes looked so hollow, she swore she was staring into straight into an abyss. The usual bright orange orbs had taken such a dark turn that they'd looked crimson under the shade of the trees.

_Lancer?_

She searched frantically for his warm aura and found nothing but a dank emptiness where it used to be. His gentle gaze turned cold. The face that showed such sincere smiles now grit teeth. Hands that had held her so carefully clenched tightly into shaking fists.

"I…need some water," Lancer murmured, disappearing back into the forest with his head hung before Saber could say anything to stop him.

_What just happened?_

"What now?"

The King of Knights was shaken from her thoughts by the sudden question. She'd almost forgotten her other companion since he was so silent for most of the journey. Saber turned to the King of Heroes, who glared at her with irate red eyes. His tone was stiff, like a challenge. As usual, Gilgamesh was a mystery to her. He had kept that attitude since the forest, and she did not know whether it was better to ask him about it or to leave him alone to reveal it himself. But, given as he was Gilgamesh, she didn't expect any answers either way.

"Now…we wait," she replied plainly, and watched as he pulled an entire couch out of a pocket dimension. His eyes glazed over for a second there, but it seemed he was regaining his mana.

"Care to join me?" he smirked, noticing her eyes on him.

And his attitude, apparently. She turned away from the king and his condescending eyes, and called Excalibur. The strain burned her veins, but just seeing the sword again, the only familiar thing she had in this unfamiliar world, brought a very welcome comforting feeling, as well as the assurance that she could at least summon basic things. She took one last look at the Sword of Promised Victory before letting it vanish into the air. It would be a while before she could actually use it though.

"Now wasn't that a little cruel? Showing me the very weapon you used to kill me just hours before?" Gilgamesh teased, leaning into his couch like he owned the world.

"You would know. You define cruelty after all," Saber stated coldly, but the man just laughed. She could tell he wanted something, even if for the most part, their conversations consisted of insults and disagreements.

"What is it you want, King of Heroes?"

"I believe you already know."

If he was talking about that preposterous proposal, he was out of his mind.

"I have no need of your nonsense."

She turned away from the King, heading in the direction Lancer had taken, to the blonde King's dismay.

"I do not grasp why you prefer that mongrel's company over mine," he grumbled, a tinge of envy slipping out of his usual supercilious voice.

"That, King of Heroes, is exactly why."

With those words and one last meaningful green-eyed look that Gilgamesh couldn't comprehend, she was gone.

Gilgamesh's standard smirk wavered, and then he burst out into laughter.

Did that woman just make him doubt himself?

 _Him,_  the  _King of Heroes_ , of all people!

 _What_ a  _woman_.

Lancer's trail of cut shrubbery was easy to follow. He must have pulled out a spear, judging by how cleanly severed the branches were. The more she walked, though, the more she realized that maybe his slashes were a bit wider than necessary, nipping off tree bark here and there, and leaving tree roots bleeding and scattered about. It looked careless, or unfocused, as if he were hacking away without being aware of what he was doing. Larger gashes scarred the shrubbery as she continued down the path he left.

She clenched her fists. "Lancer?"

Silence.

She ran.

…

_Red. Red. There was so much red._

_Is this…my blood?_

_The Knight stared in horror at his bloodied hand, suddenly remembering the dire situation they were in. Where the hell was Fionn? And did he manage to beat the—_

_The boar! Where-?! Argh!_

_As he almost blacked out again, he realized he was missing half his gut._

_Shit. Shit!_

_Black stars dancing in his view, he searched frantically for his comrades, feeling relief only when he saw the face of his lord._

_Fionn! My Lord, you're safe!_

_He could almost smile despite the pain that racked his body when he saw his master try to bring him healing water from his hands._

_He truly sees me as a knight again._

_Drip. Drop. Drip._

_His Lord cursed, once again running back to the water ._

_My Lord was just careless. He'll heal me. I know he will._

_The water once again failed to reach his lips._

_He will heal me. Don't doubt him, Oisin. He will heal me._

_The water splashed, wasted on the ground right in front of his wide eyes._

_Pain._

" _You don't really think, I've forgotten about that have you?"_

_AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!_

He lunged at his master, grabbing his wrist—

"—armuid!"

_Huh?_

_That wasn't Fionn's voice…_

He shook his head violently, opening his eyes only to have them met by wide green ones.

"Saber?"

When her eyes left his for her wrist, he blanched, realizing he'd been hurting her this whole time. He retracted his arm the next second, and stabbed the red spear into the ground next to him

"Saber, I—" he started, nursing the wrist he had nearly crushed in his grip.

"Do not trouble yourself with it," she interrupted, hiding her hand behind her back. "Are you all right, Lancer?"

Her words of worry were answered by panicked apologies.

"I should be asking you that. I must apologize, I didn't realize—"

"I told you not to worry about it," she reprimanded, as if nothing happened, "Shall we continue and get some water?" She asked, hoping to change the subject and take his mind off the earlier event.

Saber turned away from Lancer, already able to hear what sounded like a running stream. The man sure knew how to survive in the woods.

"I bet I can get to the stream before you can," she teased, smiling back at the man behind her.

He looked stunned for a moment before chuckling. Perhaps she wasn't hurt at all and he was just overreacting. After all, she was challenging him to a race.

"You looking to lose a bet, King of Knights?"

"Oh, I don't intend to lose, Lancer. On the count of three."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

He raced on ahead of her, and when she was sure he was out of sight she discretely brought forward the arm she hid behind her back and examined the bluish skin just below her palm. It only made sense that he had a killer grip from all that expert weapon handling. If anything, she should have expected this. But what on earth could influence Diarmuid so much that he'd turn violent outside of a fight? Her eyes narrowed, and she uttered a simple healing incantation, instantly feeling the power drain from her system as she used her basic magic.

_What on Earth had gotten into him?_

She looked around and sighed, wondering if covering up the injury was the right thing to do.

Now to find that stream.

The two knights returned from their drink to find a drastically bored King of Heroes sipping on a glass of red wine as he lounged on his luxury sofa. As they had nothing to do, they decided to relax as well. Lancer plopped down on the grass and leaned on a tree, while Saber decided to walk around.

The petite one held her arm out of the shade of the thick canopy to feel the waning sunlight again. This time the rays were gentler, and they colored her pale palm orange as the sky. The entire landscape basked in the auburn light, and Saber found it difficult to think that the view was the same view as when they first arrived. There was just an unexplainable magic to the sunset that she loved.

To be honest, she did not know what to make of the beauty of her surroundings. It just seemed odd to her that such an evil tool as the Grail would contain such wonderful dimension as this. But, a sunset  _is_  a sunset. She used to watch them all the time with Kay. It became routine until she had taken the sword from the stone.

A short walk, and she found herself running her hand down one of the marble rocks in the middle of the field. It was unreal. Such beautiful things never occurred in the real world. Then again, perhaps she just never truly appreciated the beauty of Camelot in her old life. Was the grass this green? Was the sky so blue? Was the world painted in more colors than gray?

"Jeanne!"

The woman was shocked out of her thoughts upon recognition of the voice. Gae Dearg automatically appeared in Diarmuid's hand, and in the next second the Irishman put himself between the disturbed dark magus and the two  _somewhat defenseless_  kings.

Saber nearly frowned at Diarmuid's lack of trust in her ability to protect herself, but deciding he was only doing it for her best interest, turned her ire to the disgusting mage who had the nerve to show his face to her again.

"How many times must I tell you that I am not this Jeanne you speak of?!" Saber questioned angrily, frustrated that even after ten long years the magus hasn't realized the truth yet.

Lancer's eyes moved from the French man to the English woman. He vaguely remembered the fish-eyed one's complete obsession with the King of Knights, but nothing more. Though, he did grant them a chance to display their honor as knights, so that gave Diarmuid one thing to thank Gilles for…versus a thousand reasons to kill him.

"Is this stalker bothering you, Saber?" Lancer asked, pointing his spear at Caster. "Your defeat is certain, crooked one."

The red spear spun easily in his grasp as he took a stance, causing the gray-skinned man to flinch. Good, the man at least remembered how Saber and Diarmuid defeated his slimy minions that night ten years ago. But perhaps Lancer felt so enthusiastic that he forgot Saber could deal with her problems on her own.

"I am in no need of your protection,u Lancer. I am fully capable of defending myself," Saber reprimanded, her pride feeling a little bruised.

"Oh, Saber, don't be that way," he replied, not taking his eyes off his target.

"Is that really the proper way to treat someone who too was invited to this gathering?" Caster started, but his voice was lost in the bickering of the two knights.

"Lancer, you know I am in no need of protection."

"Of course, King of Knights, but it would be nice to rely on your comrades every now and then. You are a King after all."

"You speak the truth, but I think that dealing with Caster should not take even a minute for me alone," Saber argued.

"Then it will take even less time if we collaborate, will it not?" Lancer countered, not backing down.

And so, the French magus was left only to watch as his  _Jeanne_ fought with the pretty Irish dude. Well, this was certainly unexpected. Surely Jeanne would prefer to talk to him over that pagan Knight, wouldn't she? So why was he being ignored, and why of all things was she entertaining that tarnished adulterous playboy? A sinner whom she didn't even know! Why, when he was right here?

No matter, once he successfully returned her to her right mind then he could spend all the time he wanted by her side again. At least for now, he could settle for some attention.

"Jeanne—" he started again, in vain.

"Mongrel, what gives you the idea that you may speak to my wife for such a long period of time?" Gilgamesh shouted from his couch.

"I am not your wife!"

"Saber is hardly your spouse!"

Clearly these two  _boys_  weren't going to give him any time at all. And still these duffers call themselves Heroic Spirits.

Caster's brows knit together. He'd be damned if he let those two get in between him and his love. He'd been here for  _ten agonizing years_  waiting for her to show up once the Grail War concluded, and here she was, right in front of his eyes. His countless prayers have finally been answered. Like hell he'd let the chance go to waste. He flung his hand forward, muttering a chant under his breath.

_With my hand I open the gates of hell_

_With my blood I summon the beast_

_Come forth tendrils of below_

_And capture the maiden I—_

The spell was broken with the sudden bang of a thunderclap, and from the heavens fell a heavy war chariot, alive with lightning.

"HOHOHO! Has the King of Knights finally fallen in love? About time!" The boom made him seem like a high Santa Claus.

 _What in Jeanne's name—Rider?_ Gilles' magic disappeared undetected, having been interrupted by the thunder of a hero that barged in.

"Don't make assumptions," Saber reacted, automatically recognizing the voice, "King of Conquerors."

She could roll her eyes right now. Arturia hadn't forgotten how this King of ignoble blood had managed to ridicule her way of ruling so easily, as if it had been flawed in every imaginable way. He'd picked at every little thing, scrutinized every detail, and trashed it without a thought to spare. And yet…there may have been truth to his words. After all, he was wishing to expand his rule, and she was wishing to end hers. Still, she couldn't have been completely erroneous.

The King of Heroes may have laughed. But he never said she was wrong. She slipped a brief glance at the blonde man, before welcoming the King of Conquerors. It was not wise to dwell on such strange thoughts.

The colossal man waved at the trio, cape melting into the sunset. But the more they looked, the Servants found two white masks poking out of Iskandar's huge silhouette. Behind him stood two Assassins: a male and a violet-haired female. Hassan. Upon his reaching the trio, the two Assassins remained a safe distance from the King of Heroes and the King of Conquerors himself, but Iskandar approached with no fear. He stood, chest out proudly.

"I am honored to have faced such formidable foes in the war. I shall defeat you next time, King of Heroes," he beamed, showing that big goofy smile of his, as if the bloody, sword-covered death was but a dream and nothing more to him.

Gilgamesh scoffed from his place on his couch. "Ridiculous. The likes of you could never defeat me, the King of all."

Iskandar, at that point, should have at least felt a little shame. However, the red-haired hulk did nothing but stand akimbo and mirror the King of Heroes' signature smirk, leading the blonde to raise an irritated eyebrow.

"You claim to be undefeatable and yet," Iskandar pointed to the adorable King of Knights, "did this dreaming little girl not defeat you in the last war?"

Gilgamesh froze, eyes wide as dinner plates.  _How in the world—_

"HOOOOOOH! So it is true! My sources are indeed reliable!" the King of Conquerors guffawed. The Assassins joined him, snickering in the slightest manner. Even Caster found it amusing.

"Do you desire a repetition of the death you experienced, insolent lowlife?" Perhaps the pain you experienced was not sufficient!" Gilgamesh raged, leaving his couch to stomp menacingly towards the heavily muscled man.

"WOAH THERE, hold your horses, King of Heroes, do we not still have to convene with our summoner?" Iskandar laughed awkwardly, putting his hands in front of him in a desperate attempt to quell the anger he just caused. As much as he would love to tease the shorter king, that defeat ten years ago hurt like  _hell._

Red eyes momentarily left their huge target and settled on the short _est_  king, who had her arms folded and was currently looking away.

"Hmph. Be grateful that your King is merciful," Gilgamesh said. He could teach this mongrel a lesson later. Even make a show of it. Maybe then Saber wouldn't show such a disapproving face. Wait a minute.  _What the hell?_ When did he start caring what she thinks?

"I will not be reduced to being your subject, King of Heroes. Instead, you should consider joining my army!" Iskandar suggested, as he had done many years ago. Clearly he hadn't gotten the message.

"Is that something you should ask of a king?" The snake-eyed king bit back. This idiot was  _really_  pushing it.

Forgotten among honorable kings, knights, and both, Caster cursed. No doubt he could trump the two blondes, judging by their low levels of prana, and the Lancer didn't seem like too much work. A quick summoning spell of his little creatures ought to do the trick, especially since the things were itching to get back at Lancer for taking away their little blonde toy. But Caster didn't have enough power to deal with a team of Rider, Lancer,  _and_ Assassin, who no doubt would side with Jeanne, given how he had acted when they all met last. He had left an impression, yes, but not a good one. He'd have to act when he and Jeanne were alone. For now…he could wait a little longer.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and Diarmuid swore Caster was up to something just now, and sent the gray-skinned man a suspicious look, which the man took no notice of. Whatever malicious intent he sensed a moment ago was temporarily gone, perhaps due to the appearance of both Rider and Assassin, but that didn't let Caster off the hook. He had done such horrendous things in the 4th Grail War, plus he had an unsettling obsession with Saber, and that definitely did not sit well with the Irish knight.

Saber met Lancer's eyes. They both sighed. Seems they were thinking the same thing. Lancer's expression turned somewhat serious.

There was yet another who some disturbing obsession with Saber though (making the count one…two…three? Three.), and in Lancer's opinion he was much more of a threat than Caster. It baffled the knight how Arturia's eyes showed not a hint of worry, rather, they were laced with…guilt?

But why?

"One missing from the participants of our war," Lancer concluded, singling out the only one not present.

As if on cue, a knight with long purple hair bowed before Saber, his long locks reaching the grass.

"My king."

"Sir Lancelot," Saber said, quite surprised, prompting all the 4th Grail War contenders to look their way. Her knight appeared out of nowhere. Saber knew he would show up sometime. It was clear the intentions of the spell's caster were to bring all the Grail contestants together, and that meant Lancelot would no doubt, come.

"Sir Lancelot, there is no need for such formalities in this gathering," Saber lectured.

No roars. No violent fits of chaos. He seemed to have gained back the sanity he was deprived of during the war. What remained was a stoic, elegant face and an ever serious expression.

 _Lancelot?_ The name seemed to trigger a flow of information from the Throne of Heroes for all the servants.  _Was this gentleman…Berserker?_

The other Servants, however, had never seen the side to him that made any actual sense. Hell, he couldn't even speak anything but 'RAH' and "hwoooh" back when they were competing for the Grail. The man that was before them right now was an absolute stranger to them, as he was neither the mad dog, nor the black roaring beast of a man that appeared at the most untimely moments.

"You are kind as always, my liege. However…I still…I still desire punishment for the incident with Guinevere. Because of my actions, you—"

Saber sighed, cutting him off, ignoring the tug at her heart. "Really, what do I do with you?" She asked no one in particular, shaking her head slightly. She gently cupped his face with her right hand, prompting the King of Heroes to put on a bitter scowl.

"When will you understand that I forgive you?" she asked solemnly. Rider almost scoffed. It seemed Saber really did treat all her subjects like they were sheets of glass. Even the ones that deserved to be punished. If it were him, he'd be having this guy walk straight off a cliff. That is, if he really had a woman to fight for.

Berserker just stared back at his king solemnly, finding sincerity in her eyes and gentleness in her beautiful smile. And somehow, forgiveness seemed even more of a punishment than death.

_How could you?_

"As you wish," he said seriously, taking a look around and realizing this matter could be discussed at a later time. He stood, towering over the petite King. She seemed used to it, as she smiled back at her knight.

_**Her knight.** _

_Gods._ Lancer inwardly slapped himself.  _I'm thinking too much._

Suddenly, there was a flash of blue. An Irish man materialized in the middle of the group. He opened his eyes, revealing blood red orbs.

"Who the hell are  _you_  people?"

His eyes roamed the crowd. There was a huge man clad in red.  _Red? What horrible taste in clothing. Red is for women._ Next to 'Red' were two black-clad masked freaks. He so did not want to talk with them. There was an even creepier gray skinned man with—wait…Are his eyes normal? Last time he checked, eyes pointed forward. Then there was a man who looked sort of familiar… And there was another man who had really…long hair. His eyes landed on the two Servants he recognized.

"That bastard, and Saber," the mysterious blue-clad man said, "what is your business in this area?"

Five of the Servants turned to the two who were called out, wondering who this rough man was. Rider assessed his looks from head to toe.  _Blue? What horrible taste in clothing. Blue is for women._ Iskandar thought.

Saber interrupted before Gilgamesh could lash out at the blue warrior. "Lancer, were you summoned as well?" she questioned, noticing the other Irish man perk up at her words.

Diarmuid raised his eyebrows.  _Lancer?_  The Knight of Fianna racked his brain for a name. This man looked familiar; he hailed from the same land, definitely. A wild, bestial look that supposedly made maidens swoon, a barbed, deathly looking spear, and lastly… a name that was spoken of highly, one that was praised long after his death, even among the Fianna.

"Cu Chulainn," the raven-haired Lancer called out. Saber's eyes went back to the man who spoke, eyes immediately flashing a curious look.

The blue man kept silent for a moment, piecing name and face together. He kind of looked familiar…like that kid he saw this one time. He had the same features, except he was much older now, he should think. The Throne of Heroes they were all currently standing in gave him the last clue he needed. This guy was a Lancer too.

"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, fancy meeting you here, though you were just a kid back then. To think you grew up to be a warrior too, huh. The Grail labels you as a Lancer, doesn't it? I can't believe you were summoned before me. You know what?" he said, waving Gae Bolg in his hands easily, "How about we test which one of us is  _truly_  the most skilled master of the spear?"

He lunged. Diarmuid quickly stepped between the fearless Lancer and Saber, moving his own spear to deflect his opponent's, but the very moment their weapons collided, Saber's heart screamed in her chest.

Saber protested, "Both of you, cease this foolishness!" She strained against the excruciating pain that gripped her heart once more.  _Not good. Not good. Not good. No!_

Diarmuid stopped short at the King's words, barely parrying a blow to his neck.  _Damn it, Cú Chulainn!_

Saber's breathing became labored, drawing red snake eyes in her direction. Should he tell them to stop? They won't listen. Should he stop them with weapons? It would worsen her pain. Should he pull them apart? Like  _hell_  he'd stoop low enough to touch those mongrels. Perhaps he'd kill them.

"HOOOH! The Lancers of different wars! This truly is a sight to behold!" The huge man came between them and slung his heavy,  _HEAVY_ , arms over their shoulders. "But can't we just get along?" Saber sighed, relieved at the efforts of the Red King. Gilgamesh's swords, already half out of their portals disappeared once again into his treasury.

"Bastard, who are you?" Cu interrogated. His spear forgotten on the ground, he struggled to release himself from the big man's death grip.

"Why, I am the King of Conquerors!" he beamed in reply. Lancer and Lancer were not amused.

"I do not see why you should stop our duel, King of Corn Sorcerers or whatever. Here we have Servants, all built for the fight, and yet you stop a duel between men," Cu Chulainn protested, still squirming in the big man's grasp.

 _Corn Sorcerers?_ "A duel, you say?" the King of Conquerors challenged, "This is not a duel." The bearded man let go of the other Lancer, who rubbed his neck. He then whispered to the blue-haired man still in his death grip, "Can you not see that this man does not wish to fight? Not now, in any case." The blue man stopped struggling, actually listening to the words of the older man. Really? Who in their right mind would refuse a duel from him? Besides, everyone here was certainly worthy. Archer and Saber may seem to have such little mana left, but hell, Saber had a pathetic Master in their war and still managed to kick ass. Then there was Archer...that demon.

"With the lady there…" Iskandar pointed to the only woman present, who was currently speaking to Lancelot…and ignoring Caster, "wishing to keep the peace, your opponent has no desire to spar with you." The colossal man let go of his air-deprived captive.

"If I were you, I would not want to spar with a man held back by the wishes of the lady he fancies. Perhaps at a later time," Iskandar lectured, a knowing smile on his face.

 _Fancies?_ Cu questioned. Though he hated to admit it, this…King of Corn Sorcerers was right. If he could not fight his opponent at full strength, he did not want a duel at all.  _Fancies? That Lancer fancies Saber? That notorious playboy? Wasn't he married to some dumb babe?_ Cu Chalainn observed his counterpart. He was still with the Red guy and himself, but he was staring back at the King of Knights, who seemed to be...to be catching her breath?  _Hm. So he does fancy the little lion._

"NOW, let us commemorate this meeting with some wine!" The huge man grabbed both Lancers by the cloth at the back of their necks and dragged them to Gilgamesh.

 _It's this attitude that made Rider's master so scared isn't it?_ Diarmuid thought as he struggled to regain his footing. "HAHAHA! You look pathetic, Lancers! Are you truly Epic Heroes, mongrels?" Gilgamesh mocked as the odd trio reached him. He was momentarily distracted from Saber and the girl had engaged in a conversation with her knight.

"Say, King of Heroes, how about you bring out that fine wine of yours?" asked the buff hero.

"What madness brings you to think that I would share the finest wine in the universe with my subjects?" he accused arrogantly in reply.

"Aw, and I was looking forward to a fine drink," the Red King pouted childishly.

Despite his words, the blonde king waved a hand in the air and several golden chalices materialized, along with a gold pitcher full of wine. His red eyes faltered for a moment as the magic energy flowed out of him, but he refused to show any more weakness and resumed his arrogant face. Saber raised an eyebrow at him before resuming her conversation with the other British knight.

Gilgamesh saw a little opportunity arise and he smiled at his thoughts.  _What a clever king you are._ He said to himself. Red wine flowed out of the jug and into one of the fine chalices. Gilgamesh grabbed it, eyes glinting, and approached the pair of British knights.

"Well," the King of Heroes interrupted, rudely stepping between the pair, "we can all enjoy this fine wine together or…" The arrogant king turned to the other servants, "you can all amuse me with your blood."

_Was that a challenge?_

His smile was sinister. The Servants could tell he was serious. The blue Lancer for one, was itching to get back at Gilgamesh for the horrid defeat not a day ago, yet wanted to keep the peace at least until the mysterious summoner reveals his purpose. He grit his teeth. He did not want to die by the hands of the same man twice.

Meanwhile, the petite girl glared up at Gilgamesh as if scolding him for his preposterous statement. Not only that, but her conversation was rudely interrupted. Gilgamesh had tripped the stability of the situation. Any time now, the assembled Servants may break out into a war. Gilgamesh himself was unpredictable, and Caster was even more so. No one could tell what the Assassins were thinking. Even as the King of Heroes was exhausted of mana, his looks may be deceiving. Judging by how Lancer was at full power, the other Servants present would be so as well, leaving the participants of the 5th Grail war, namely she, Cu, and Gilgamesh, at the mercy of even just a single angry Servant.

"But," he said, "whether the red we see is of blood or wine is entirely up to you, Saber." He sampled the wine in the goblet he held and turned the chalice in his hand. Iskandar raised a red eyebrow, noticing the familiarity of the King's words.

 _What is your decision, adorable King of Knights?_ Gilgamesh thought to himself. There was no way she could refuse.

The blondes warred with their eyes. Saber did not want any fighting for the day, especially since none of them had an idea why they were summoned. Plus, she didn't think she could take much more of the attacks on her heart.

Something big was about to happen. Even Cú showed up, and he was from a different war. As much as possible, she'd like to keep the fighting to a minimum. However, if she chose the wine, that would mean she was accepting yet another gift from  _that_  king. It was a form of surrender to one who she considered despicable.  _Egad._

The air around her was tense. Even the loud King of Conquerors was serious, eyeing the other Servants around him, but mostly, they fixated on the man that had been the reason for his loss in the 4th war. The Assassins were already back-to-back clearly preparing for an incoming battle. Caster, for some reason, was vengefully looking at Diarmuid, who was held back by the King of Conquerors' left hand. The blue-haired Lancer was stiff, though still in Rider's grip, as if in the next second his prized spear would reappear in his hands. The other Lancer was about to interfere but his actions were stilled as Berserker broke the silence. "My King," he addressed Saber seriously, "if this man is troubling you, then I shall rid this world of him at on—"

Saber raised her hand, signaling for his silence. Gilgamesh huffed, receiving a glare from the purple-haired knight. Face indifferent, Saber took the chalice from Gilgamesh's hand though he did not offer it. She brought it to her lips, unknowingly touching where the other king's own lips had been. He grinned at her actions.

"Be thankful, mongrels!" The servants, though disgusted at the standard nickname the King of Heroes had given them, were relieved at the actions of the female king. At least she wanted to keep the peace, no matter how short it may end up to be. The floating jug of wine filled the other chalices, which floated to the Servants present. After a toast, they all sampled the red liquid. Eyes widened one after the other. (Except for the Assassins, mask and all, and Caster because, well could his eyes actually widen more?) It truly was the finest of fine wine. Truly fit only for a king.

"That is the way to do it, King of Heroes!" Iskandar bellowed, already refilling his cup. "This wine is even better than the one we shared before!" he announced, bringing up a very distasteful memory in the Assassins and Saber.

"Do not address me so familiarly, mongrel. But as the one true King, only the finest wine would ever reach my collection," Gilgamesh explained, continuing to enjoy his endless stash of wine.

Iskandar finally forgot to hold the death grip on his two parallel captives. The Lancers distanced themselves from him, learning to fear the man's grip. Man, arm wrestling with him would be  _hell._

The two spearmen exchanged glances.  _It could wait._ They came to a silent agreement.

Gilgamesh refilled the cup Saber took from him as she watched silently. There was a sudden flash of pink reflecting on the jug. The woman turned, careful not to spill the contents of her gold chalice. Soon, all the Servants followed, trying to identify the new arrival. The pink was from her floor-length straight hair. Her features were womanly and delicate, yet she hid her eyes behind a thick mask. On her forehead was a strange red tattoo. Her clothes were tight fitting and black, matching the ornament on her face. The woman surveyed the crowd, choosing to address Saber out of the pair of Servants she recognized.

"Saber," she said, ignoring the presence of the other strange Servants, "you and Lancer were summoned as well?" The knight was taken aback. It seems that the Greek woman had a newfound respect for her. Saber nodded and said, "I assume you do not have an inkling of our purpose here either."

The other female agreed, prompting a defeated sigh from the blonde. They were no way closer to discovering anything about their sudden summoning.

"And who are these other Spirits?" the long-haired woman phrased lowly, cautious of their other companions.

"The Servants of the Fourth Holy Grail War," Saber answered. The older woman looked over the crowd once again, studying their probable abilities and build. She contemplated on whether she had enough strength to face even one of them. She frowned.  _Maybe not._

"So you participated in the past war too?" she asked, noticing that only King Arthur of the present crowd could fill the position of Saber. No other Spirits fit the image. Maybe the other blonde was Archer of the 4th war. Speaking of Archers, where was the white-haired Archer she knew?

King Arthur nodded, confirming the woman's hypothesis. "What Servant are you, lass?" Iskandar asked, curious about the new arrival.

"I am Rider, although normally one would introduce himself first before asking others."

"HOOOOH! So this is my counterpart? It is an honor indeed! We have much to discuss, but first, I am Iskandar, the King of Conquerors! Who might you be, woman, and why do you hide behind a mask?"

 _This man is very forward._ Rider thought.  _But as we all shall be participating in this…strange activity, it should be alright to introduce ourselves._  The Servants were curious. What could she be hiding behind her mask?

"I am Medusa," she said simply.

_...Maybe it's best to not see behind the mask._

"Perhaps," she continued, "you may also honor me with your names and titles."

The suggestion was put on hold though, with the arrival of two more Servants, both with purple hair. The air shimmered behind Medusa before a Japanese samurai and an elf woman appeared. The 4th Grail War participants stared, remaining curious about the two. Maybe they were their counterparts. That would be most interesting.

"Caster and Assassin," Saber acknowledged. The male greeted her back courteously, amused at the growing scowl of Gilgamesh's face.

"Greetings, little lion," he said. Saber smiled. Seeing this, despite the King of Heroes' bratty attitude, he sent three chalices of red wine to the trio of new arrivals.

Seizing this chance, the King of Heroes talked to his Saber, all the while preventing Lancelot from speaking to her again. Saber began to scold him, and he asked, "Who are you, my mother?"

 _Anything to impress the lady of his interest, eh?_ The Japanese Assassin thought, accepting the wine. Medusa did the same, and was quickly swept a little away from the crowd by her huge counterpart, who asked her questions to no end. The poor girl wasn't much of the talking type and was slightly overwhelmed by the chatty king. The rest of the Servants conversed with each other, Lancer and Lancer even talked in Irish. Gilles de Rais was curious about his own counterpart, but cautiously watched on.

The third chalice remained untouched.  _Caster?_ Assassin thought. The woman's jaw was clenched. Her fists were closed tight, shaking from the force. Her brows were knit. Her eyes filled with murderous intent and rage. Assassin followed his former master's eyes.

_Gilgamesh? But why would Caster be angry at—_

Caster murmured something so soft he almost missed it.

"Soichirou-sama," she whispered, her voice cracking with both grief and rage. A magic circle appeared.

 _Chottomatte._  Assassin thought.  _Does she intend to attack him?_

"Caster, it is not wise to—"

_Too late._

"Burn."


	8. Revenge and Reunions

Intricate symbols burned through the grass at the magus's feet, scorching a red hot scar into the dainty flowerbed they all stood in. Wisps of power shot up from her feet and were channeled with practiced ease into her accusing finger, which aimed itself at her killer. A single word was the trigger, and all at once the concentrated magic hurtled towards its unsuspecting blonde target, expanding into menacing tendrils of burning vengeance.

Green eyes, distracted by the bright light, peeked behind the King of Heroes to find two intertwined dragons made of fire, both hurtling toward Gilgamesh at an alarming speed. Two emotions stirred within her, one was concern, and the other an infinitesimal ounce of regret. Before she knew it, her index finger had drawn one of her own familiar symbols.

A sudden gust of wind sliced through the Servants' little clearing, effectively ruining Medusa's Rapunzel-worthy hairstyle, and with a thankful word to Merlin in her mind, Saber tilted her head to meet her eyes with the female Caster's. The King shook her head lightly at the enraged woman, willing her to calm herself.

 _Such foolish actions will only bring you down._  She tried to communicate with her eyes. She and Caster had not got off on the best terms, but she hoped her diversion would have at least snapped the magus back to her senses. Gilgamesh was the last person she wanted to anger if she didn't want a repeat of the defeat she suffered not long ago.

Saber watched the magus' eyes widen and sink in the span of a few seconds. When tears began to well up in her eyes, the magus broke her eye contact. Greek curses escaped Caster's colored lips, and the magic circle at her feet disappeared into the grass. The chalice of wine still floating in front of her was shoved into Assassin's hands as the Greek mage stomped away, no longer able to hold back.

_Soichirou-sama…_

Her eyes flooded over his memory, and she slumped against a tree, far enough away from the crowd for her to let loose.

The King of Knight's concerned eyes followed Medea, growing in worry every passing moment. Every step the magus took away from the crowd crushed her heart. Medea...a misunderstood mage who had succumbed to the will of Aphrodite, been used like a tool, been blamed for things she had no control over, and finally been cast aside when she was no longer needed. After the hell she went through, the man she loved, albeit only by the god's power, the only one who she could turn to, betrayed her for a woman he favored.

Kuzuki must have been the first one to show her kindness. Kuzuki must have been the first one she truly loved. During the war, Medea died believing she had at least saved the only thing important to her, but even that had to be taken away. Kuzuki was gone forever, and Medea couldn't even join him in death. That attack was just an attempt at revenge by a woman who gained it all and lost everything in such a short span of time, aimed at a dead man immortalized in this stupid Grail and she had stopped it.

Had she done the right thing?

Saber's eyes returned to the cruel rubies of the King of Heroes, no longer able to watch the Greek woman's sobbing.

_We just take and take and never give back, don't we?_

Distracted by her thoughts, she did not realize that Gilgamesh asked her a question and went silent. "Yes?" she asked, hoping he would repeat his interrogation.

Gilgamesh looked pleased and announced, "Hear that, mongrels? Saber said 'yes' to my proposa—"

Aaaaand now he has a bleeding nose.

Booming laughter filled the clearing as Iskandar watched the two other Kings.

 _How amusing._ Iskandar thought as Gilgamesh nursed his kingly nostrils. It seems only Saber could somewhat hurt him without him going completely berserk. He'd lie, but in reality he missed their company. Sure, they were enemies back then, and there was no way in hell either of them would ever join his army, at least...not anymore. But he couldn't help but think they could be friends. There was just something about them that made him hope.

A smile as warm as sunlight crossed his features.

Some sort of bond must have formed between the other two Kings. Based on past experience, he knew that Gilgamesh was at least intrigued by the little King of Knights. Her way of ruling interested the King of Heroes, for what reason, Iskandar couldn't fathom, but it wasn't his place to question Gilgamesh's taste. The gold king was a collector of treasures. If he deemed Saber worthy enough of his attention, then there must be something unique in the King of Knights that his eyes missed.

If one would look at Saber as a lady, Iskandar thought, then he supposed the woman would classify as elegantly beautiful, but the strong kind of beauty. She was clearly no damsel in distress, especially if she managed to kill Archer, who crushed him completely in their last battle ten years ago. He looked more highly at Saber now, for if the Assassins were right, and Saber had a pathetic  _civilian_  for a Master, then that made her victory over the King of Heroes even more amazing. Perhaps it was that strength that attracted the king of Uruk.

_Interesting._

Meanwhile, Cú Chulainn chuckled at the beautiful King's actions. That woman was definitely something. He'd known that the first time they'd clashed, right when her rather…talentless Master managed to summon her. How the hell he'd managed to summon Saber, he'd never know. It's not like he was complaining though, Saber was, to say the least, incredible. She was powerful enough with a useless Master, it was hard to imagine fighting her at full strength. Diarmuid had just been telling him about his battles with Saber before Medea had decided to shoot a ball of fire at the golden asshole.

The younger Lancer had been privileged to have fought her in the previous Grail War. Hell, and her Master back then wasn't even a proper  _magus_. Jeez, how formidable was that woman? Cú noticed the sudden silence of his counterpart and followed his gaze, finding that the man too was focused on the same person that occupied his thoughts. A smirk made its way across his face.  _Saber again, huh?_ Cú shook his head.  _Tá an fear seo cinnte dÚsachtach. Hopeless._

"Diarmuid, if the alternative is you moping around here while your mind is clearly on someone else, you should go talk to…her," the Irishman trailed off.

Suddenly, an enormous mass of magic energy caught the Servants' attention, and they all turned towards the King of Knights, who was now facing a huge, grossly buff man who towered very nearly a meter over the tiny king and looked to be around seven times her weight. He was topless, so the crowd could see the proof of the great strength he possessed. Long, black tendrils of hair reached until his middle back. On his wrists and ankles were heavy steel bracelets.  _Berserker?_

However, the similarities to the mad man Saber faced had ended there. The man's appearance took a significant turn. His skin was more natural, the grayish shade it had when he was a Servant was replaced by an even dark tan. Heterochromia eyes surveyed the small crowd, but focused on one familiar face.

"Greetings, pretty lady." Several eyebrows shot up.

His voice was low but melodic. "Have you been summoned for this gathering as well?" he asked. Saber had to forget the fact that this man could snap her in half like a toothpick, before slowly nodding up at him.

"I am Heracles," the man announced, revealing his identity to the gathered ones, "the Berserker of the last war," he announced to clear the static air and to clarify his position. He sat down on the ground (the Servants swore there was mini earthquake there) and the Grecian found himself near eye level with said pretty lady.

"You are quite the formidable creature, little king. Reminded me of a time I too had been a hero. Pray, tell how you managed to defeat me. I've certainly learnt not to underestimate an opponent by size," Berserker chuckled to himself, resting his chin on his humongous palm.

"It certainly was not easy, Berserker. You nearly destroyed me the first time ̶"

"She defeated you because clearly she is stronger than you. That is all there is to it, mongrel. If that miniscule excuse for a brain of yours can not comprehend that simple fact, you have no place thinking so highly of yourself for owning that ridiculous amount of muscle," the King of Heroes interjected, folding his arms and staring the man down. The mongrel had no right to comment on the King of Knights' stature, neither did he have any right to speak with her. This was true especially when he was currently engaged in a conversation with the lovely King.

It was mongrels like this that he despised most of all: self-important freaks of nature who think so highly of themselves just because they stand a head taller than the average man. Those who think that absurd mass of fibrous tissue is a display of power have a severely distorted viewpoint. Mad Enhancement? Nothing but pathetic wording to disguise the fact that he was reduced to a rabid dog. It is an  _insult_  to call this sorry beast a demigod.

Heracles's mismatched eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar lightweight that stood before him, his gaze cold and hard as steel.

"I was not belittling her for her size. I simply did not expect such a powerful force within such a petite body. Though…I hear she was the one who killed you." His words were like a prosecutor's: cunning and clever, baiting the guilty to reveal himself.

"So, do tell me, gold one, if this lady defeated me because she is stronger than me, then what does that say…of you?"

And Gilgamesh, fiery as his temper was, could easily fall into the trap.

But, to the muscly man's dismay, his words did not incur even the slightest bit of rage, even if he was sure the man would have toppled over the edge.

The lady knight who defeated him passed Heracles on his right, hoping to find the other Grecian. The heavy man's gaze followed her, still filled completely with awe.

"It says we are even." The words were spoken with faked indifference, for the emotions that came with were much too foreign to express.

When Heracles turned to ask for an explanation, the King was studying his wrist with crossed eyebrows and an otherwise unreadable face, like those words weren't meant for Heracles, but for himself.

Unaware of the Greek hero's watchful eyes, Gilgamesh looked up for a moment, staring at the retreating back of the sword wielder, and then shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

What Heracles missed however, Diarmuid did not. He'd watched the entire exchange, from when Heracles had first spoken to Saber, to when she'd squeezed the King of Heroes wrist to calm him.

Oddly, from the moment they made that bit of contact, his wrist had been itching like a rash. What that meant, he didn't dare dwell on.

"Ara, sorry for the wait!"

An innocent, childish voice, resonated all around them.

The King of Knights stopped in her tracks, all thoughts of Medea banished from her mind.

All at once images rushed to her, ones of sandy beaches and a bright, white moon, of love and innocence, of reckless driving and most of all...friendship.

 _That voice_ …

The girl shook her head. No. It was simply impossible. Hesitantly, she resumed her pace, refusing to look toward the voice. She stifled the feelings of hope when they peeked out from her heart. She could not bear the icy pain of rejection if she turned to find it was just her imagination after all.

 _It's not her._   _It cannot be her._

Her calm pace turned into one more frantic, but before she could get far, arms closed around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

Wide eyes watered slowly as strands of the woman's long light hair fell upon her shoulders. She'd recognize that anywhere.

"Irisviel."

Upon the mention of the name, the blonde was spun around to face its gentle owner, who with a gentle tug, pulled the unresisting Servant once again into her arms.

The king's hands hesitated before returning the hug. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe she was still sleeping. Maybe the Grail was playing tricks on her.

"Did you miss me this much, Saber?" Irisviel laughed, still clinging to 'her' Servant, who had buried her face into her shoulder, uncaring of the watchful eyes of the others. Judging by how her life had been so far, she knew there was never any time for blissful moments like this.

Fate decided to bring Irisviel back to life; and wherever Irisviel was…

"Saber."

Kiritsugu was.

Behind the angelic woman stood her polar opposite. Clad in black and varying shades of grey as usual, the man was comparably a dark shadow to his wife's brilliant light. Nothing had changed since the last Saber had looked him in the eyes. Black and hollow, more alike to an endless abyss than to the lively dark tones of the night sky that hung above them.

"Kiritsugu," she said, with cold fury that expressed the pure hate for the man who stepped on her pride and ideals long ago. For all their years apart, the feeling had never died. His only redemption in her eyes was that he saved Shirou, and nothing else.

_I have not forgiven you; nor will I ever._

The man's void eyes stared back, unintimidated, observing the adorable king's jaw clench. She was holding back for Iri's sake, of course, not his. He knew he was less than scum in Saber's eyes now: nothing but a lowly piece of trash that deserved not to be called a Hero of Justice…that deserved not to be so idolized by his adopted son.

Of course, he couldn't blame her. He followed the King of Knights eyes when they flickered to his side, landing on El-Melloi's servant. Why-? Ah, yes. The Servant he forced to kill himself, that's who it was. He received a vicious glare from the said Servant, which failed once more to even irk him. They had very important matters to discuss. He could not afford to debate with the knights and their goddamned ideals.

"Ano, Kiritsugu~" Irisviel cooed, clinging to his right arm. "Why not we start? It seems everyone is present."

The blue-clad man cocked an eyebrow, noticing his red rival was nowhere at the scene.

"Thank you all for coming, Epic Spirits of all eras," Irisviel bowed, her husband making no effort to do the same

"I am Irisviel von Einzbern, this is my husband," she said with a friendly tone, gesturing to her spouse.

"Emiya Kiritsugu." He stated simply to introduce himself.

But, as soon as the introductions were out of the way, the friendly air took a serious turn.

"Please, we need your help," she pleaded, bowing. When surprise had taken the audience, the King of Heroes' audible laughter filled the clearing.

Snapped out of her stupor by the blonde king's reaction, Saber thought it well to ask.

"What for?"

The Japanese magus answered her with a monotone voice, as if the weight of his seven words was nothing at all.

"Please help us destroy the Holy Grail."

Saber's eyes were wide, and the Servants around her exchanged glances, wondering what the hell this person meant.

"I destroyed the Grail with Excalibur. I  _saw_  it disappear," she reasoned, but the stoic man shook his head.

"Then why are you still here?"

Saber ground her teeth.

"You only destroyed the Lesser Grails. It will come back and another war will start. This cycle of madness will only begin again. So please, lend us your strength," Irisviel pleaded in the stead of her husband.

"Do you honestly think we would do this for free?" Cú interrogated, irritated by the fact he was called to serve once more. "Listen, lady, I am a warrior. I hunger for the fight, and I thought I saw that wish granted when I was summoned into the Fifth War. It turns out that goddamned cup has a lot of unjust  _shit_  going down at the other side and I do not want to be a part of it. Plus, I sure as hell am  _not_  going to be devoured by that unholy corrupted piece of tableware again!"

Gae Bolg was out in a second, aimed perfectly as Irisviel's homunculus heart.

"You think being impaled by your own weapon is fun? Wanna try it? " he growled, with words as menacing as his weapon's red barbed blade.

"This…This favor may be heavy, but so is our compensation," Irisviel continued, eyeing with fear the red weapon pointed at her chest, even with Saber by her side.

"I do not believe, Saber's Master, that there is anything of any worth you can offer the dead," the King of Conquerors interjected, letting out a hearty laugh after. "You of all people must know that everyone here has long since gone to the grave. This Throne of Heroes too, provides us with everything we want or need. Why give up this pseudo-heaven?" Despite the wide confident smile, he didn't sound too convinced at his own words.

As Irisviel was about to speak, Kiritsugu held up a hand to silence her, and then turned to the Servant he employed to ensure Caster's defeat. His black eyes met the taller man's red ones, but despite their outward appearance, it was clear Kiritsugu had the upper hand.

"True. But what else is more appealing to the dead than another chance at life?"

Dead silence settled on the heroes as they processed the magus's absurd statement. That was ridiculous. They all died on their own terms, and who's to say they regretted it?

"If you successfully destroy the Holy Grail, you will be free to live the rest of your lives as you please, however," the man continued, "If you choose to live, you choose to die. There will be no resurrection should any of you lose your life a second time."

Saber pursed her lips, knowing clearly her answer without having to think.

"I accept," Saber said simply, stepping up in front of the couple. The blonde put her hand Irisviel's shoulder. The woman straightened, smiling at her close friend. "Even without the others, you have me." Saber smiled at her friend. The red-eyed woman enveloped her in a hug.

"I knew I could count on you."

Kiritsugu watched the action take place blankly, recalling how close his Servant and his wife had been during the Fourth War. The way Iri held the servant reminded him of his abandoned daughter and his adopted son. For the past five years since he'd rather miraculously appeared here by Irisviel's side, he had been trying to open a window to the world to check on them, knowing he couldn't really return without purpose. When he'd returned his attention to Saber however, she had been joined by the powerful King of Heroes, just as he was hoping.

"Is it your wish to have your eyes carved out, Master of Saber?" asked Gilgamesh, who had felt the man's eyes on him. "This is no favor to you, mongrel. I only wish to accompany her," the King of Heroes explained, taking Saber's chin in his hand, which was promptly swatted away. Her rejection didn't seem to discourage him though, rather only strengthened his drive to do the ridiculous mission.

"As do I," Lancer stated, completing the Knight classes in front of the two magi. "I will not participate for your sake, but for the sake of the future."

 _I'll follow the light you show me, Arturia._ Diarmuid walked over to Saber's left side, Gilgamesh already at her right. Alexander the Great chuckled.  _Your actions are very amusing, Lancer. Knight and Knight… how adorable, indeed._

"I shall follow my King, wherever she may lead me." That was Lancelot, with an odd expression on his face. The British knight eyed the two Servants at Saber's sides with suspicion and a little bit of shame, for he had delayed in joining his King's side.

 _Saber…You trust him. Right?_  Cú asked in his head, wondering whether to stay or to go.

"I'll go if you go, blue."

The Lancer looked up to see Alexander the Great looking at him with a serious expression. "If anything, we could make matches happen," the huge man said jokingly, gesturing at the three servants assembled in front of Emiya. Cú smiled at the double meaning and nodded, joining Saber in front.

"HOHO! Quite an army you're building, King of Knights!" Rider stepped forward too. "Besides," he continued, "I want to see how that wimp is doing." Rider remembered his unmanly master. Perhaps he has finally toughened up. The King of Conquerors would be proud if he did. Waver was a clumsy idiot, but he had a good heart, and an even better mind. During Rider's time in the world, he looked at Waver as his son, or maybe his younger brother. He was even able to go in peace, knowing his Master would live.

One by one, the Servants moved forward, hungry for the second chance they could only dream about. To live again…would give them a chance to be normal; to live a life unchained to the duties of a hero. They could be free. They could do whatever they wanted, as long as they destroy the Grail.

Kojiro Sasaki, or at least that's who he represented anyway, approached the group as well. It was frustrating to be a fictional character. Unlike the Servants around him, he had never lived. He was a mistake, an aberration. He never had a life, not until Caster summoned him to the world as Assassin. This was his chance to write his own story. He could take up a new name, a new face, and he could  _live._

He suddenly noticed the absence of his Master from his side as he walked forward. He stopped mid-way to look back. "Caster?" She seemed to be the only one left behind.

"I refuse!" she shrieked and pointed an accusing finger at Gilgamesh. "My wish had finally come true. I do not care for another life. I was fine with the one I was granted during the war, but you…you took my only happiness away from me!"

For a minute, the King of Heroes thought he recognized her face. Did he perhaps kill her husband? The King just waved it off, ignoring the woman's misery. It was nothing to him. He was probably just one of the many he killed. Gilgamesh couldn't care less about Caster, but Kiritsugu, however, was determined to let her join.

"We need your powers to destroy the Grail."

"I do not care!"

Irisviel seemed silent for a moment. Saber noticed her eyes go dark, before their usual brilliance returned.

"Is it because of Kuzuki Soichirou?" Irisviel asked, her voice more solemn than normal. Caster jerked, surprised. Irisviel had hit the mark.

"If that is the case, I'll bring him back with you."

Caster was stricken. Her knees failed her and she collapsed to the ground.

"Irisviel—" Saber started, trying to ask the questions that the Servants all had in their minds

"Then it is settled. You will all participate," Kiritsugu interrupted hurriedly, before Saber could say any more. "You will all be transported to the physical world, but ten years into the future."

"In the present, the Grail cannot summon enough mana to bring you there. As you might have noticed, time is of no importance here, in this realm. It is up to you to see if an hour has passed, or a week, a month, maybe a year, even a century. Bringing you into the future isn't any different from sending you into the present. The changes in the world aren't much. Fuyuki City still looks like Fuyuki City. To help, as though you were summoned again as Servants, just like the last time you made it to the world, you will receive information about the world around you to help with adaptation," Irisviel said kindly.

"You will have all the skills and magic power you had as a Spirit, however, you will have physical, human bodies. You will experience all that humans do. You cannot attain Spirit form anymore, but any form of transportation or teleportation magic you use is still possible. You will feel hunger and thirst, and you can be affected by illnesses. As I said before, this will be your last life. Any accidents may kill you, even if you are all stronger than the average person. Use any means necessary to keep yourselves alive, in combat or out of it." To stress his point, Kiritsugu's eyes roamed the crowd, emphasizing the importance of their new lives.

"The main objective is to destroy the seven seals that summon the Grail, and then destroy the Greater Holy Grail itself. These seals appear at random locations throughout the world. Once one of them surfaces, we will tell you of its location and you will have to destroy them. These seals are what tie the Grail to the world in Spirit form. These are the reasons why only a Servant can touch it. When all the seven seals are destroyed, they will release enough energy to summon the authentic, physical Greater Holy Grail. As this is the real Grail, though you would have physical bodies, you will be able to take possession of it," Kiritsugu continued. "Once you have it…" Kiritsugu paused for a moment. "Destroy it with your combined powers."

Kiritsugu's slight hesitation bothered Saber, but she thought she might have been imagining it. Kiritsugu was a secretive man. He wouldn't have revealed so much of the plan, not even to Maiya. He would never tell the whole truth; there was always something he would hide. So what is he hiding now?

"You will destroy the seals in teams. Until you are assigned to destroy a seal, live a life normally. Eat, drink, study, work, travel, whatever. You would be free to do as you wish, but do be cautious and take care of yourselves!" Irisviel sounded like a worried mother seeing her children off to college.

"You will all appear where the last Holy Grail War ended," Kiritsugu told them, eyeing the Servants who'd just come from the latest war. Saber could practically feel Gilgamesh's eyes on her but she chose to ignore him, knowing the man was smirking at her.

"HAHAHA! We're up for some adventure!" Alexander bellowed.

"Are there any questions?" Irisviel asked, like a schoolteacher would to her students.

"One," Saber said. She noticed it from when Kiritsugu and his wife arrived. The Servants gathered here were from the Holy Grail Wars she had participated in. There was two of every class except Saber and Archer.

"Where is Archer?" she inquired. She did not see that white-haired Servant anywhere.

The mage-killer and his wife exchanged glances. "You'll find out soon enough," Irisviel answered.

Kiritsugu nodded and gazed up at the dark sky. The sun had made its exit while the conversations took place. Only the light it left behind illuminated the sky with a waning glow. It would be pitch black soon

"All you have to do tonight is sleep. The next time you open your eyes, it will be on Earth," Kiritsugu said. With that he began to dissolve into the air, and clutched the hand of his wife. "We must be going," Irisviel said a little sadly as she waved goodbye to her friend, "See you soon!" The couple disappeared completely, leaving the Servants to contemplate their decision.

"Saber."

The girl turned to face Medea. The older woman looked broken, her face deprived of all energy.

"Yes?"

Caster kept her gaze firm. "To what degree do you give that man your trust?" she interrogated. Saber was taken aback.  _Trust him? I would never trust anything to that man!_  Saber regained her composure and sighed. Unlike her and the 4th Holy Grail War participants, some of the Servants didn't even recognize the pair that recruited them. The only clue they had was their last names. Emiya and Einzbern seemed to ring a bell, but the others remained in the dark. In the end, only Saber would be able to speak about them wholly, and even she was skeptic about the event.

"I am only sure of one thing: that man truly wants to save the world. Nothing is more precious to him than the lives of the human race, but if anyone poses a threat to the masses, he would do anything to save the majority. He would not attempt a stunt like this if it wasn't for the greater good," Saber replied calmly, though there was something nagging at her from the back of her mind. Few Servants were reassured, but Caster retained her stoic expression.

"I could not care less about that wretched world. I would not so much as flinch if it burned into a fiery hell. I asked you if you trusted him to see if the man keeps his promises. Soichirou-sama is the only thing I want!" She raged, her eyes flashing red with her wrath. Caster could grab Saber by the neck any time, but she feared the three men who surrounded the shorter woman. "If that man does not keep his word," Caster's eyes were glowing dangerously, "then I shall do everything,  _everything_ , to keep you from reaching your goal!"

The mage woman turned sharply, her cape whipping Saber's face, and she disappeared into the air. Her hand went to her cheek. There was no wound, not even a scratch, but it seemed Caster's words hurt like the cold metal of a knife. She was blind. She was too blind to see the way Caster loved her Master. She was there when Caster was defeated. She  _saw_  Kuzuki die. No, she  _let_ him die.

"Saber, are you—"

"I'm fine." She cut him off, letting her hand drop to her side. Unconvinced at her words, Lancer looked to Gilgamesh, but the blonde man avoided his eyes altogether. Crazy what ten years could do. He was completely out of the loop.

By the sudden emptiness of the clearing they stood in, Diarmuid could infer that the other servants were starting to retire. He observed a few Assassins jumping across trees, and just glimpsed the larger Berserker's hair slip into the forest. Cú Chulainn did not even choose to move. He simply dropped to the ground and wrote an 'F' in the air with his index finger. A flame appeared at his feet, and the red-eyed Lancer dozed, comforted by the warmth. Medusa left with a curt nod to Saber. It seemed Rider respected her now instead of holding a grudge for the one who defeated her. Maybe she and Rider…could be friends when they all appeared on Earth again. After all, they would have no reason really to fight each other, right?

The night grew quiet, with only nature's voices left whispering. It seemed there would be no more talking tonight.

"That entire ordeal was insufferably boring, but at the least it granted me one more chance with you, King of Knights." The King of Heroes lifted her chin to meet her gaze, but withdrew his hand right before she had the chance to shove him away. "You certainly are not planning to sleep on the same level as these mongrels, correct? I have only the finest sheets, and if you so wish, we can share an amazing night tangled beneath—"

"I do not think so." she voiced, before he could embarrass her more. She decided to ignore the heat that flooded her cheeks, and folded her arms over her chest. Even the flirtiest of men had the decency to—ugh! If she had any less self-control, the king would be on his knees begging for mercy!

But of course, her retorts would forever fall on deaf ears with the King of Heroes. The said man just shrugged, and as he began to dematerialize he stated, "The offer still stands. If you wish to change your mind, you need only say so." He ended it with his trademark smirk.

With one last threatening glance at the two dogs left beside his queen, the King of Heroes disappeared into the night. Lancelot most definitely felt like a rabid dog, and he would take great pleasure in mauling that bastard's stupid-ass face off his bloody head. Diarmuid was flexing and relaxing a hand clenched around his red spear while taking deep breaths to calm himself. With the way the King of Heroes had just spoken, he deserved an award for not hacking the  _amadán_  to death right then and there.

"My King, are you not going to retire for the night?" Lancelot asked after cooling his temper, looking around in the darkness that enveloped them.

"You go on ahead, Lancelot," she told him, smiling in the slightest way.

"Very well," he answered, though he eyed the man that remained.

 _If you do anything to her…_  He warned Diarmuid with his eyes, before turning his gaze back to the woman he so adored.

"That silver crown suits you, my King," he said before disappearing into the air. Arturia's hands went to the circlet on her head. She'd almost forgotten about it. A spark of realization hit her. It was actually possible that  _Lancelot_  was the one who chose the crown. Saber's green eyes searched the area, but the Knight of the Round Table was long gone.

"Arturia, may I have a moment?"

Diarmuid put his hand on her shoulder and they both dissolved into the air.

The couple materialized on a high cliff that towered over the Throne of Heroes' sea. The moonlight reflected on the waves, making the tide glitter and shimmer as it hit the rocks. A salty breeze blew at the girl's hair, tossing her blonde locks around her face and making Diarmuid want to sweep the golden strands behind her ear.

The man sat on the edge of the cliff without hesitation, as if knowing well that the ground would never break. Arturia mimicked him, sitting a tormenting distance from the knight. She was both near and far from him. Close enough that if he moved just a little, their shoulders would brush, but far enough that as it is, they weren't touching.

The salty air carried to him the scent of her hair, but he pushed the lovely distraction out of his mind, for the reason he brought her here could not wait a moment longer.

"I brought you here to ask for your forgiveness."

Saber's eyebrows went up. "For what?" she asked. She didn't recall Lancer doing anything wrong, not one.

"I apologize for ever blaming you for my forced suicide."

Saber's gaze softened.  _I would never blame you for that. I…I deserve it._

In her silence, Lancer said, "It was never your fault, but I took out the rage I held for both our masters on everyone and everything, even you; even if it was your pure spirit that gave me the will to fight." He hung his head in shame and stared down at the waves that struck the rocky shore. "I am truly sorry, Arturia." The man stared down at his palms solemnly, clenching and unclenching his fist.

The girl closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air, and played with the blonde strands that framed her face.

"Shouldn't I be the one apologizing?" she asked, as she stared out into the distance, not really expecting a reply.

She could feel his eyes on her, yet she avoided his gaze. Now it was his turn to wonder. "It was an honor to face you in battle, and even more so to fight on the same side, conversely, our last duel became shameful on my part. To think Kiritsugu would soil an honorable duel between knights and force you to…" Saber left her statement unfinished. Her gaze ran over the toned expanse of his chest as it rose and fell with every breath he took.

"I…I was unable to do anything. Forgive me for not being able to stop him; it is my deepest regret. Our battle was glorious and yet…" Arturia trailed off. The two Knights came to a silent understanding.

"Mm. It seems like we were both cursed with horrible Masters then," he declared, trying to lighten the mood.

"Just our luck," the King replied.

When their eyes met at last, the two broke into laughter, relieved of the guilt in their hearts. Arturia looked to the sky. Even in the Throne of Heroes, the sky was beautiful, dotted with unknown, unreal constellations.

 _That would be the second time I have heard you laugh, King of Knights._ Lancer thought.  _I might even be the only one who has ever done so. But that would make it all the more special, will it not?_

The pair spent a couple more moments in silence; the only sounds heard were the waves crashing to the shore below. The sound of the water was an effective lullaby. Lancer found an odd thought. If Saber was the King of Knights and he was a Knight, was she his King as well?

"Say, King, do you…?"

He felt a little weight on his right side. The King of Knights leaned on him, asleep, finally giving in to her exhaustion. Diarmuid ignored the heat in his cheeks and tried to remain still. Saber looked tired and he didn't want to wake her. He slowly brought his hand around her waist to support her and shifted himself to be able to pick her up. He swept his hands under her knees gently and carried her with ease, again astounded at her weight. He could almost disregard it.

He laid her down gently, and went to a position far enough from her that she would not feel his presence, but close enough to shield her from the sea breeze. He smiled as he closed his eyes, happy that she trusted him enough to leave herself in his care.


	9. The Awakening

When she was a king, Saber preferred nights that dreams would not come to her. Unfortunately, the moment she closed her eyes in the King's chambers, she would be visited by Merlin to continue her duties in her sleep, or more commonly, be visited by her nightmares.

She expected the latter to come to her tonight. Will it be the Mordred, Lancelot, or Guinevere this time? She could vaguely feel her eyelids weighing down and her body growing slack, when finally the exhaustion from their day-long ordeal had hit her. She barely registered the shoulder that she had leaned upon, and the scent of the chivalrous rival she'd been reunited with before sleep finally claimed her, her last thought happy, for after ten years she'd finally reconciled with the Irish knight.

Maybe for once, she would be allowed a dream.

An azure sky was what first greeted her, a great blue dome as far as her eyes could see, painted with soft white clouds that did nothing but add to the clear heavens' beauty. When she spun, there was nothing but endless sky in every direction, the white clouds floating slowly across, creating various shapes as they went.

A light breeze tossed her golden hair around as she breathed in the sweet air, looking directly upward. The yellow star was absent from her sight, even if she could feel its warmth on her naked white skin. As she breathed out, she turned her vision downward, where stood an exact copy of herself where her feet touched the surface of reflective water, staring back up at her and copying her movements.

She bent down, and so did the figure. She reached out and touched the water, joining her palm with her mirror's. The water rippled at the contact, distorting the image, and it soon disappeared into the depths of the still lake she had been standing on. The ripples continued across the surface, troubling the calm water, until they too had soon disappeared into the far off horizon.

She turned around, hearing the trickling of water behind her.

What appeared suspended in front of her was a familiar headdress, one that had been worn by her father before her and by his father before him. The radiant item spun around slowly, it's jewels refracting the ever present daylight.

She reached out to the only item in the strange realm he was in, her fingers almost grazing the familiar metal.

"Saber."

The familiar voice jarred her out of her thoughts and she whirled around, coming to face the bare body of the worse of her Masters.

Excalibur was at his throat before he could say anything more.

In her peripheral vision, the blue sky above fractured like glass, a web-like pattern spreading out from directly above her. She could hear each sickening crack, sharp and screeching to her ears, until finally she watched the sky fall.

The shards of blue struck the water like boulders, breaking it brutally under their weight. The once quiet lake answered in thrashing, foaming white wherever the boulders hit, tossing and turning like a man at the whipping post. As the heavens crashed down, tendrils of black seeped through the spaces the blue sky left, swallowing the heavens into its nothingness.

But Saber did not flinch...and neither did Kiritsugu.

"What do you  _want_?" she hissed, as the thundering cries of her dying world echoed all around.

The lake tipped sideways under her bare feet, throwing her off balance. Her instincts tried to drive Excalibur into the watery floor, but it did not hold, and to her horror, her beloved sword sank into the depths, leaving her slipping across the surface of the lake.

Arturia yelped as the lake dislodged itself from the crumbling sky and began to fall like a plate of water, aqua splashing off the edges into an endless black abyss.

Kiritsugu's sinful hands had grabbed onto her wrist, holding her steady as the dreamscape fell, far down the dark space.

"Calm your mind. This is just a dream, King of Knights."

Green eyes watched the crumbling remains of the sky disappear. Just like that, she could no longer feel the pull of gravity.

"Un-unhand me!" She tried to wrench her wrist out of his strong grip, but was surprised when the man did just as she said.

"My purpose here is not to harm you. You are a significant part of my plan...an  _asset_. I would not jeopardize a fundamental part of my mission," he told the girl, expression ever unchanging. Arturia rubbed her wrist, repeating her earlier query.

"I came to inform you of some...important matters regarding you and your companions re-entry into man's world," Kiritsugu stated with stern eyes.

"Firstly, while we acknowledge all of your abilities and consider them instrumental to ensure our success, we find it absolutely necessary to control them. The present time is rather fragile, and its people even more so. The Command Seals that functioned as the Grail War's controlling mechanism can no longer hold you back, and as you will be given fully functional bodies like those you owned in your old lives, you will no longer be dependent on a Master's mana supply. Heaven knows what sort of chaos you can cause," Kiritsugu explained. He moved to fish his pack of cigarettes out of his trench coat, but realized he wasn't wearing it. Or anything for that matter.

Saber's green eyes sparked at his last statement. An unspoken insult was to be found there, and she found herself angered on her fellow heroes' behalf. If Kiritsugu noticed her reaction, he didn't show it. Nevertheless, she kept her furious gaze on his pupils, refusing to accept his judgements.

Kiritsugu did notice. It was hard not to, when the King of Knights had nothing concealed. He could see the quivering of her tiny clenched fists, the muscles of her arms very slightly ripping when she shifted her fingers. Probably to alleviate the pain of her nails digging into her palms. There was movement by her collarbones, she was grinding her teeth. Her modest chest heaved with breaths. She was trying to calm herself. And of course, even while floating in midair, she assumed the same ready stance she took when she was fighting Lancer. Arturia Pendragon was angry.

He looked down beneath his bare feet, where none of Arturia's sky or sea remained. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so critical.

"Power corrupts, and even the most righteous heroes are not immune to its silver tongue," he answered, raising his eyes, and skipping over her figure to meet her green orbs. She might not be happy with what he would say next, but none of this was under any debate anyway. He drew a deep breath, missing the flavor of tobacco on his tongue.

"You and the other Servants will be stripped of the full extent of your powers until you are dispatched to destroy a seal. Only then will you be able to use them to their full abilities," the magus-killer finally let out.

Saber scoffed at the condition, resting a hand on her hip.

"Preposterous. And what if battle shall find us? How are we to defend ourselves?" she asked, insulted at Kiritsugu's obvious mistrust. She had sworn to help Emiya's cause. Why would she do anything to obstruct them from their goal?

Kiritsugu expected this reaction, of course. If he was presented the same proposition, he would have been just as of work had been put into honing their skills to perfection. The condition was the equivalent of sharpening a knife til it could split hairs and finding out the match was hand-to-hand.

"I am leaving you with half. None of you are by any means normal human beings. Even at half your power, the average human stands no chance. Is that enough insurance for you?" Kami-sama, his teamwork skills needed bloody improvement.

Saber considered this, unspeaking. Her mind drifted to the other blonde in their group. She remembered feeling...petrified. Against him, both times, there was never a moment she could clearly see a way to victory.

And even when she had won, she knew her victory was only by a hair's breadth and no more.

"Fifty percent is the most powerful I could make you while not endangering the populace. Also, at fifty percent, should anyone go rogue, defeating them should be less of a problem. This leads me to my second point, your role," Kiritsugu continued, counting his points on his fingers.

Again, Gilgamesh flashed in her mind.  _Even at half..._

"You, Saber, are the singular Servant both Iri and I have ever interacted with, and so are the sole Servant we have solid influence on. We can trust you. We need you to be our safety. Another controlling variable on the ground, so to speak," Kiritsugu said.

"And a  _tool_  you can use to eliminate those who choose not to follow your rule," Saber finished for him, challenging him with her piercing gaze. Just like before…

"No."

The single syllable flew from both their lips at the same time, bouncing back and forth in the invisible walls in the darkness around them. Slowly, Kiritsugu lifted his arm and pointed at the back of his hand.

"You are no longer my Servant, and so I do not command you, Heroic Spirit King Arthur," he voiced, looking at the unmarked skin where once were a red sword-like command seals, now just his blank, rough complexion.

"It's your choice. But, given your ideals...I'm sure you won't allow them to go rogue, even without me asking you," said the magus.

Saber was unsure how to react, given those very ideals were the reason he and she didn't get along in the first place. Their incompatible attitudes and views drove them apart faster than a bullet. Although, after meeting his son, somehow Kiritsugu's ways weren't as despicable. She still disagreed with him, but she was no longer blind to his reality. In her eyes, he was a person. A person whose opinions should be respected. Because of that realization, there was a part of her that wanted to know him. Why would he push Irisviel away? Why would he look at his daughter so lovingly a moment, and turn into a cold-eyed killer the next? Why, for all the murders he's committed, does he hate an honorable duel so much? Why does he hate her so much?

Just what could have happened to make Kiritsugu the tragic man he was?

"I will do what  _I_  think is right."

Kiritsugu nodded. It was the right move to leave her a choice. Besides, the King of Knights' morals would never allow her fellow Servants to run loose; he didn't know why he bothered. One thing was for sure, having Saber on his side gave him an advantage. Not only was she a powerful force, she was also key in recruiting more allies. He could probably count on El-Melloi's former Servant's loyalty, and perhaps with a little convincing, she could reel in Rider. Those three already had a brilliant team dynamic, given the way they reacted to Caster's attack.

Right, Caster. There was a risk to bringing that unstable Servant along, but if he was gambling the fate of the world, he might as well go all in. Caster's abilities were not to be taken lightly, and if turned the right way, they could use them to their advantage. Anyway, just in case, he had the King of Knights as a failsafe.

And then there was Berserker, the Grail War's tragic, insane wildcard. The Throne of Heroes identified him as Sir Lancelot du Lake, surprisingly. Given he was eager to follow his former king, he shouldn't be much of a problem, now that his Mad enhancement has been removed. Then again, there was the fact that Saber might have caused his insanity, and the reason why he could be classified as a Berserker in the first place.

Of course, there were the servants he had no chance to gauge. He wasn't around for the Fifth war, so there was no telling just who he had entrusted the world to. Kami, he hated having such a shaky foundation, but he couldn't do much else.

There was one other that could damage the cause rather than help it. Kiritsugu's eyes flashed as his thoughts went to the problematic man that was Tokiomi's Servant. He had doubts about inviting him to participate for feared a double-edged sword. On one hand, Archer was the most powerful Servant there was. On the other, that also made him a formidable enemy, a threat second only to the Grail Kiritsugu was trying to destroy.

The turning point was Saber herself. He'd be blind not to notice her obvious...influence(?) on the flashier King. It was made more apparent during their recent meeting. He had no idea what exactly had transpired between his former Servant and the epic, but he knew he could use it to his benefit. If he played his cards right.

He just wished the one card in his hand wasn't the servant he had shunned.

He looked at his Servant, with regretful eyes. All the loose ends tied up to her. He needed her, but she could very well do without him. If he'd known then her value, maybe he wouldn't have been so coarse. Maybe.

There was no changing the past. The present, however...well, that brings him to his third point.

"Thirdly, the world you will enter is ten years into the future, as we have already said, but there may be...things that changed, and not just surface level. The Earth you will appear on is not the same Earth it was before," he vaguely reasoned, massaging his brow.

"What do you mean? Of course, it has changed with the times," she questioned, her voice less on edge.

Kiritsugu's hand again reached down to his nonexistent trench coat pocket for a cigarette, but in realizing it's absence, ran his hand through his hair, which Saber noticed, had grayed. He had gotten older.

"The Grail hasn't been idle since you destroyed it's lesser form for the second time. In fact, its abundant magical energy has been rather erratic. It's highly possible it had been acting irregularly since I commanded you to use your Noble Phantasm on it."

His words caused Saber to stiffen, but she said nothing.

"I will not discuss the unnecessary details, as you and your companions will soon wake. If anything of importance comes to light, I will meet you here. And perhaps the others too. As I already said, this world is a different one from the one you came out of. Perhaps the details will make themselves apparent, but they do not change the mission," Kiritsugu said sternly, meeting her eyes once more.

Saber nodded, wondering just what had happened in the ten years she slept through to make Kiritsugu feel the need to tell her.

Kiritsugu could see, in the corner of his eye, that the dark space they were floating in was beginning to bleach into white. He did not have much time left.

"...Good luck, King of Knights," Kiritsugu stated, tasting the statement on his for the first time since his days with Natalia.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure, but as the woman who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders began to fade away, he made one final statement.

"And thank you."

…

Her eyes fluttered open, Kiritsugu's final words still echoing in the back of her mind. Where was she?

When the sleep had left her, instead of the dream-like glittery galaxies of the fantasy world the Grail had created, her bright orbs were greeted by a familiar starry sky. A sky she knew all too well.

Fuyuki.

She shot up when the sky had registered, green eyes wide. A soft, familiar gold had appeared at the corner of her vision, and she ran her hand through her hair to get it out of the way. It was soft, just like she remembered. Her hand was brought up in front of her eyes for close examination, and she flexed and bent the tiny, fair fingers that had once led Britain, the very ones that had pulled Caliburn from the stone, and of course had brought her rule to its tragic end.

A sharp pain in her heart drew her vision down to the rest of her. Fair skin, a slightly muscled physique that did next to nothing to help her draw her sword, and a petite frame. Goodness, had she really been so frail?

She moved beneath the clothes Gilgamesh had granted her in the Throne of Heroes, feeling an unmistakable lag between what she wanted to do and when her body did it. She didn't remember having a body being so...heavy. But that mattered not.

A body.

A real body.

Gone was the ghostly sensation of being a Spirit. Gone was the unreal floating feeling of non-existence. Gone was the dream-like feel of pseudo-life.

She was here. She was breathing.

She was  _alive_.

Irisviel told the truth.

The girl got on her feet unsteadily, feeling uncomfortably like a toddler just learning how to walk, bright eyes sweeping side to side. She looked around in the little light that came before the dawn. They really were in Ryuudou Temple. Arturia recognized everything, from the gate that Assassin blocked her from, to the oriental temple that stood to her right.

It was like the scene was harvested from her memory, except it had quite a few more scars. Where she stood, the cement was newer than the rest. It was near unnoticeable, if not for the lighter shade. A large gash right where her final fight had taken place. But that wasn't all that had changed.

The forest surrounding the steps to the temple was denser. And the indoor garden's shrubbery was a little more unruly. Little details that hardly mattered, but it gave her peace to know this part of the world that she'd destroyed had healed.

Had she?

That didn't matter. What did was finding the servants-Diarmuid!

Several feet away, beneath trees and the leaves of shrubbery, orange eyes snapped open.

Arturia?

Diarmuid got up as quickly as he did when he was a knight in training...and fell forward. Luckily he had the trees to steady himself. Great Celtic gods, if his comrades saw him now, they'd laugh. He felt like he'd drank one too many of Oscar's wine with the way he swayed on his feet. But, well, being crazy intoxicated didn't stop him from winning brawls. Unsteady limbs weren't going to deter him from finding the female knight.

But first...he seemed to be in some sort of garden. The tree he was leaning against was not nearly as thick as a hardwood tree should be, and its roots were shallow and widespread instead of running deep. The soil could not have been more than a few feet deep. Although, that was assuming this tree was something natural. He'd never seen a tree with leaves so pink.

Anyway, given her voice came from upwind…

The knight took a deep breath and stretched out his muscles, trying to get rid of all the fuzziness between his nerves. This was his body, definitely, he felt more at home in this skin than he ever did being a Heroic Spirit, even if the spirit form was quite handy. It would just take a little bit of getting used to.

He felt his heart pumping as he jogged toward where he supposed Arturia would be.

Right. He had a heart now.

...

Saber whipped her head around, feeling a familiar aura.

"King of Heroes," she acknowledged, knowing not why she let him approach unguarded, "I can not say I expected you to–"

She was silenced when he rested his hand on her cheek.

"Do you know where we stand, King of Knights?"

His voice was strange. It froze her in place. Fear, maybe? This was the same man who tortured her and her Master just days (years?) before, it wouldn't be a surprise. She followed his eyes downward to their feet, where she stood on a large scar across the courtyard, filled in with newer cement.

She shied away when it hit her, removing herself from the familiar touch. Of course, the image was still fresh in her mind. Him covered in blood, a gash across his chest, one that she had inflicted, and for all that she was worth, she still couldn't believe she was able to deliver the killing blow before he could. His hair had fallen onto his face that moment, and for the first time she'd seen an expression she didn't know Gilgamesh could make.

They were standing on the very spot she ended his life.

_You are a hateful woman. You defied me to the very end. But I shall forgive you. Some things are beautiful for the reason that they are unobtainable._

_King of Knights, it was truly...fun._

How could she possibly forget such a moment?

She stepped back when he tried to touch her again.

"Don't."

For a second, the King of Heroes scowled, but the frown was quickly replaced with his signature smirk.

"If you think your refusal is going to discourage me, you are sorely mistaken, lioness. Twice already, I let you slip through my fingers. I will not let you go a third time," he said, brushing her loose hair behind her ear as he did so.

She swiped his hand away and turned her back to the King of Heroes. Why was the ancient Urukian even here? Why had he come with her? Certainly, saving the world wasn't his intention, she'd be damned if he'd joined her for the same cause. Her fingers went to her cheek, as she pondered on the subject.

It burned where he touched her. She could never get used to such intimate contact, be it with...with...whomever! It almost disgusted her how much like those blushing tavern barmaids she was feeling. Flustered, embarrassed...angry?

With a long, deep breath, she calmed herself, with hope the King of Heroes' observant, red eyes noticed nothing. It was proving to be difficult to think under such an intense stare. Harder still to determine the answer she was seeking.

Why was he here?

To pursue her?

Suddenly all her hair rose on end and she flicked her eyes to the temple steps, where no doubt a Servant had woken. Gilgamesh, however, was looking toward the temple, with irritated eyes. Another one. She picked up a few more signatures after that. The Servants were all waking.

Saber dismissed her thoughts. She had plenty of time to dwell on those things later. It didn't matter why Gilgamesh had chosen to follow, only that he kept his word and would aid in destroying the Grail.

"Something on your mind, my queen?"

She flashed him a dangerous glare, but her eyes were drawn to the pavement below her, and the lighter color of cement. There was...one other question she wanted to ask the King of Heroes.

"During our last fight, why did you-"

"Saber!"

A familiar voice interrupted her, drawing her attention to the Fourth War's Lancer, who was jogging up to them from one of the gardens. His was one of the closer mana signatures. Saber greeted him, unmindful of the scowl on her blonde companion's face.

"Diarmuid. I had wondered where you could have ended up," she said, as the dark-haired man approached.

Gilgamesh watched silently, his mind not registering the words. All on is mind was Saber, and why there was a curve on her lip that he did not cause, why she walked toward that dog and with him shied away, why she welcomed that mongrel and not himself.

There was no reason to see red, not when the lowlife was involved. How could that pitiful creature hold a candle to his splendor? There was no reason to fret, when she spoke with a beast so weak he deserved not even the job of being his slave. There was no reason for love's envious heartstrings to wrap themselves so tightly round his heart.

None. None at all.

So Gilgamesh stood there with his knuckles white, hoping soon his queen would notice her mistake. That smile belonged only to him. Her hands were only his to hold. Those green eyes exist for him to drown into. Him only. The King of Heroes did not want to have to teach her.

But also, there lingered, in the very back of his mind, the words he himself had told her after their last fight. For the first time, he wanted to think he was wrong.

Green eyes glanced back at him before she and the mongrel headed together to the temple, most likely to find the other servant he had sensed.

Gilgamesh eyed the petite hand that swayed back and forth as she walked away, wondering when he could know how it would feel to lace his fingers in between hers.

Somehow, he didn't think it would be for a very long time.

Diarmuid was almost thankful that Archer had chosen not to follow, although it must be because the King of Heroes didn't believe 'such a menial task as finding the other useless mongrels' was worth his time. From the corner of his eye, the last that he saw of the blonde man was him perching himself on the roof and sipping a glass of wine, all the while watching the back of the King of Knights.

Arturia's eyes glowed in the dim light. It was one of the first things he noticed when he was walking up to the two kings. They shone like magelight, two glowing green gems that drew him forward as if they had their own gravity. The knight wondered if it was her and not himself who was bestowed with a love charm, for there was no more adequate explanation to describe the hold she had on him.

And her words were too kind, he feared that she had seen his ears reddening, and had prayed the night would cover it up for him. The King of Knights had beauty in all aspects. She was as honorable as she was beautiful, as if her looks reflected her pure spirit.

"Shall we search for the other Servants?" he asked, just when he noticed the King of Heroes' grimace.

Had he interrupted something?

He left the question unsaid when the King of Knights agreed and gestured to the temple and to the gate, where she had sensed two others close by. They both chose the temple and began to leave, but he couldn't help but notice the way she glanced back. It wasn't a look he could describe. Only one he wished she had given him.

Ridiculous, he knew, for she had already shown him such kind eyes. He should be content with that, and not let the bubbling greed seep through. She was not his for him to exploit all her attention.

He shook his head, banishing the thoughts.

"Do you feel altered in any fashion?" the girl asked her tall companion, as they both swung open the heavy double doors.

Diarmuid inwardly scolded himself for letting a lady do such a thing, and then berated himself for forgetting for a second that she was raised a knight before a woman.

"Somewhat," he managed, despite the conflicting thoughts in his head. "Not significantly different, anyway."

He tried flexing his fingers, still feeling the momentary delay, but he was getting used to it. The temple interior was primarily built of expensive looking polished wood and stone that were carved into intricate oriental patterns. Due to Saber's experience with tatami mats, she felt a little guilty allowing both herself and her companion inside with their footwear, but finding the Servant became priority.

She swept her eyes left and right, following the mana signature she was picking up, but keeping tabs on the one they had left in the courtyard.

Diarmuid followed the female king, avoiding the mat's edges like she was. The temple was full of what he suspected were religious items, none of which struck him as familiar. Some were silver, like her shining armor. He let his mind fly back to the sight of her during their last battle, bright, radiant, enchanting.

Hm. Was this how it felt to be under a love charm?

He stopped short when he caught his reflection in a silver vase.  _The charm!_

He couldn't stop himself. "Saber is my charm still in effect?"

He then realized the dire consequences his action could bring when she looked up at him to check. He quickly covered his mole with his hand before she could see it and stepped back into the shadows.

"Forgive my actions, King, I am only playing safe. We were lucky you had not seen this when we arrived at this location due to the darkness, however, we are human now…there is no guarantee of what should happen. If by chance it is still in effect then…"

 _Then I will lose you._  His words hung in the air unspoken.

"It was you who requested me to act, knight." Saber huffed. Honestly, are females always to be taken lightly? He looked ridiculous, shying away from her like she was some untouchable god or something.

"Do not underestimate my magic resistance, knight. I may have been born with the body of a woman, but that should be no reason to look down on my capabilities. If that charm didn't affect me before, why should it now?"

Her words did not seem to sway Diarmuid. The stubborn man even took a step back. He knew by doing this he was hrting her, insulting her even, but he'd rather she hated him than love him by the curse. Not like Grainne, never again. Just the thought of Saber's beautiful green eyes blinded by the effects of the bloody love spot made him want to take his life, if only to save himself from the torture.

His obvious poor faith in her abilities to resist the effects of magic was beginning to get to her. She knew now the horrid end of his otherwise noble life by the tangled strings of love that had him caught in their web. He had reason to be afraid, but she was no ordinary maiden. She was not raised a trophy to be dressed like a doll and married off to some new allied king. She was raised manning stables and polishing armor. She grew up with swords and horses, not embroidery and poetry.

"Remove your hand," she commanded, her fingers reaching out. On his knuckles, her fingers were like feathers, soft and delicate, fair and small. But her grip was the one of a swordsman as it encircled his hand.

"Diarmuid,trust me."

A voice as steady as a tranquil lake, with eyes clear and honest like its waters. Determination swam in those green orbs, and just like that, as if in a trance, he let her take his hand away.

"It's still in effect."

He blinked, realizing he'd just let his hand drop to his side, leaving Saber exposed to the love spot's effects. When did...?

"What is that surprised countenance for? Did I not mention my magic resistance is not to be underrated? You should know never to take me lightly, Diarmuid O'Dyna," she reprimanded, smiling with those bright beautiful eyes that had definitely put him under a spell.

"A-ah," he agreed. He couldn't grasp what had just transpired. One moment he was looking in her eyes and the next, he'd dropped the hand he'd used to so desperately keep her from the curse. And now she was looking at him just like before. Just, she was closer.

He tore his eyes from her gaze and looked to the hand that had deliberately disobeyed the orders of his brain. It was still in the hollow of her fair palm. He turned his wrist before she could pull away and ran his thumb gently across her knuckles, savoring the bit of contact before reluctantly letting her slip through his fingers.

_In the very least, I have you._

He stared at his palm before continuing after the female king, who walked a few footsteps ahead.

...

"Saber, wait."

The knight blocked her path with his right arm, eyes pointed toward the back courtyard. The blonde knight nodded, following his gaze from their perch just outside the back of the temple. Down below was the body of a woman, sleeping with her back to them.

"It's Caster-"

Diarmuid clamped his hand over her mouth and moved the both of them backwards. After an irate look from Arturia, he pointed towards a second body, one of a man he didn't recognize. Movement of the dark head told him the stranger was stirring.

"How about that man? Is he familiar to you?" he asked, trying not to focus on how soft her lips felt.

Saber removed herself from his fingers, her eyes widening.

"I...I don't believe it."

It was clear from the look he gave her that he had no idea what she was getting at, but she slowly directed him to a different vantage point which was closer to the two on the ground.

_Could it be?_

The man turned in his sleep and finally Saber could confirm her suspicions. A sharp nose and angled chin, with dark tousled hair and high cheekbones. God's angels, Kiritsugu and Irisviel hadn't lied. For now, she could, she should take the magus-killer's words with little doubt, especially if he's kept his words and done the impossible.

A sigh escaped her lips as she remembered the dreamscape she was in with her former Master. She must find a way to convene with the rest of the Servants to at least brief them on the new situation.

Now that they've found Caster, they had a way to contact the others, but...It just didn't seem like the right thing to do to approach her right now, even if it was the logical choice.

"Diarmuid, will it be alright to wait until she wakes?"

Arturia had on an expression he had never seen on her before. There was no curve on her lip, but in her eyes something he recognized in himself. A longing he could not quite describe.

He nodded.  _Anything_.

So the knights observed from their perch as the purple-haired magus woke.

Medea's eyes snapped open and she shot up from the ground, a magic circle at the ready behind her. Where was she? Fuyuki? A quick look around told her she was indeed at her former residence the temple full of energy that she had used as her base of operations. At least, until her plans were thwarted by two blondes and a bunch of kids she barely even remembered. One of which she now had a grudge against, the heartless beast…

Her eyes began to sting. Gods, she didn't even want to be on this stupid mission. She cared not for this world. It was cruel, and unforgiving, and judgemental. She owed nothing to the world of mortals. Not her service, not anything. All she wanted now, was for her request to be fulfilled. If Saber's Master hadn't kept his word, this world would face destruction that even Ares could not fulfill.

"Medea…?"

The woman froze, believing the voice to have been a hallucination. It was all she heard in the Throne of Heroes after all; it wasn't real. It wasn't real. But despite her insistence her body would not follow.

Her head turned slowly, the shuffling on cement directing her gaze backward to hollowed eyes and a solemn expression.

Gods…

Tears fell from her eyes in torrents. There was no way, there was no possible way he was alive. She sank to her knees, the sobs from her throat increasing in volume til they were the shrill wails of a young child.

It is not possible. It is not…

A gentle thumb wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, and when she lifted her gaze it was his eyes, his face, him.

"Soi...chirou…"

Saber averted her eyes. This wasn't something she had the right to see. She was part of the reason Medea hadn't fulfilled her only wish after all. In the end, the Servants were just souls who wanted a little more from their lives. Only recently had she realized that by winning the Grail War she was in effect crushing the wishes of the others, and damning them to the eternal purgatory of the Throne of Heroes.

Diarmuid saw the King of Knights shift by his side out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze lingered a little longer on the couple locking lips in the fading moonlight.

"Assassin should not be too far," the blonde one said, knowing the samurai never strayed too far from his Master.

"I'm not."

Both knights whirled around to find the samurai standing calmly behind them, also watching the romantic scene below unfold.

"Kojiro," Saber acknowledged.

"Greetings, lioness. I must thank you for letting my former Master reunite with her lover. She was devastated when she discovered she had not protected him against the Kin-pika. In the very least, she has gotten her wish, no?" the samurai's voice was a deep baritone. Respectful in tone, yet there was familiarity in the way he spoke.

This Kojiro had fought Saber before. He was sure of it. By the way the samurai was speaking he could infer it was a good fight, and it was fair. Perhaps uninterrupted by the workings of cruel Masters like his was. Diarmuid's fist clenched at his side.

"Yes, you are right…" the King of Knights replied.

Assassin frowned for a moment and reconsidered his words. "Oh, I must apologize. I didn't mean-"

Saber smiled sadly. Kojiro hadn't said anything wrong. "No, it's alright. My wish wasn't one that could be fulfilled by the Grail," she reassured him. "Neither was it one that should."

Kojiro didn't look convinced, with his azure eyes so doubting. "Still, if there were something I am able to do, I would not hesitate. It isn't fair, since both mine and my Master's have been granted."

At the purple-haired man's words left his mouth, Arturia and Diarmuid locked eyes before questioning him. Sasaki looked away and scratched the back of his head.

"Well, only partially. Saber...you are aware I am but a spirit given this name. I am not truly Kojiro Sasaki, for he was just a baseless legend. I just happen to possess the similar characteristics. Naturally, my wish would have been to live my own life. I am not aware of my real identity. I wanted to, perhaps, create one for myself. Now, I can." The samurai smiled sheepishly, peeking out of the corner of his eye to catch the woman's reaction.

It was a serene smile.

"You are absolutely correct."

Assassin made her see there was indeed a bright side to Kiritsugu's mission. A new life, was it?

The samurai moved and bowed. "I had nearly forgotten. I do not believe we have formally met, minus the wrath of my master. My name is Kojiro Sasaki. I am in your care."

Diarmuid cocked an eyebrow at the unfamiliar greeting, but responded too with his name and title. When the japanese man rose from his bow though, his eyes had sparked, just like a rival's did before a duel.

"By the way, Saber. I've brought company," Kojiro said, turning once again to his 'lioness'.

At that, what Saber had thought were dark shadows caused by the moonlight revealed themselves to be two more Assassins; the ones she met in the Fourth War.

"'Tis not the nature of knights to hide in the shadows," the female one remarked, her ponytailed purple hair catching the breeze, "However, we can understand that you do not wish to interrupt  _that_ ," she said, gesturing to where the Medea still had her lips locked with resurrected lover.

"We were scouting for other Servants, our conqueror wants an audience for a short meeting. Do you wish to participate?" the woman asked the two knights.

The King of Conquerors was already two steps ahead of her. Saber needed an audience with the Servants if they wanted answers about their condition. A meeting would be the perfect place to tell them.

"Yes."

Diarmuid knew by the rules set by Kiritsugu Emiya that while in the real world they could do as they pleased, as long as they were present whenever they were summoned. He could find a quiet place to stay, away from the world. He could take off to his place of birth, and discover how much it had changed after his death. He could hunt like before in unfamiliar forests with unfamiliar prey. He could do what he used to. He could live like he wanted.

But as he echoed the King of Knights' reply, he knew that none of those would ever make this new life worth it, if he lived without  _her_.


	10. Old Ties and New Ties

Gilgamesh joined them in following the familiar overbearing aura only the King of Conqueror possessed. Such a mana signature could only belong to the red king after all. Saber was a serious martyr. Gilgamesh, an iron dictator. Iskandar ruled with a different voice and a different attitude, one that relied on his followers' admiration of him and his persistent drive to conquer all. Rather than or elicit fear, Iskandar inspired.

It was only fitting his energy felt the same. It was powerful, and it was welcoming, but most of all it was red. Blood crimson and beautiful, of course it would lead them to its heavily muscled owner. No one else could own such magic.

Assassin, the woman with the flowing hair that had come with them seemed to have the same line of thought. Saber couldn't see her face but the king knew she was smiling. Come to think of it, the black-clad assassins had been curiously close to the King of Conquerors in the Throne of Heroes, and even now.

"Saber."

The woman turned her gaze over to their blonde new arrival who was keeping their pace. Gilgamesh had once again chosen to tag along, though he did not at all look pleased to be trudging the same ground as his so called mongrels.

"After this, you are to come with me."

Her surprise was to be expected. Of course, Saber was a woman independent. Perhaps in this world she had planned to take residence on her own or take refuge in the house of that bloody ginger boy he didn't know why she was so fond of. Mongrel did not deserve her attention. Certainly not more than Gilgamesh did. Gilgamesh watched her eyes shift from shock to anger, and the fade away to confusion. The expression was new. The time he had known Saber, the answers to his questions was the blade of Excalibur.

"What is it you mean, King of Heroes? I can not continue speaking with you if you insist in puzzling me with your little word games."

Meanwhile, Diarmuid watched the exchange with bated breath. Since the King of Heroes had rejoined them, the man had monopolized all of the blonde woman's attention. He could feel it. It was in the way her eyes would steal over to his frame, and the way she would look away before Gilgamesh could return the gaze. It was in the faraway look the occupied her countenance when she feigned distraction, and in every nervous twitch she would try to hide whenever Gilgamesh would so much as look her way.

The Mesopotamian occupied her thoughts, that much was clear. The Throne of Heroes saw her differently; her attitude had only changed when they had woken up in Fuyuki again. Diarmuid knew Gilgamesh had been with her for god knows how long before he had joined her at the temple. Who knew what the two kings had conversed about?

There was an unidentifiable pain in his chest, that he knew had no place in this mission. Had Fionn felt this same pain the moment Diarmuid's curse took effect on his betrothed? He would never know, only that it was a pain he could now finally understand.

"Oh, but I am playing no game. It is only fitting for a queen to stand beside her husband after all. I have no intention to let you out of my sight," Gilgamesh clarified with that ever-present smirk.

Both knights scowled.

"I had my own queen and I have no intention to be yours, King of Heroes. If perhaps you could just accept that—"

Gilgamesh looked at her straight in the eyes, the arrogant curve of lip disappearing into a straight line. The mild amusement in his blood orbs faded into a serious gaze, one piercing as it was powerful. It was enough to kill the words before they left Saber's throat, leaving her speechless, captivated by the supernatural red hue.

"I get what I want," was his unfazed interruption, already used to her angry rejections of his advances. He took it in stride as he kept pace with his queen.

"I want you."

Her right foot snagged on her left, and she lurched forward. Three syllables and he'd pushed her over the edge. His voice sounded off the walls of her skull and repeated his emotional torment. Gods, she would never understand the King of Heroes, try as she might.

Gilgamesh withdrew the arm he would have used to catch her seeing as she had regained balance on her own as any person worth his salt would. Hopefully she didn't see the gesture as an insult. Her distracted eyes told him she hadn't even noticed. Had he so dazed her with his words, she was lost in thought?

Arturia's lip quivered as it cursed her loss of grace in front of the worst company no less. The woman could never understand how the King of Heroes could possibly act so...so...ugh!

"You cannot have me," were the words that finally came from a pair of very clearly infuriated lips. Their word, of course, did not seem to deter the centuries-old blonde.

Gilgamesh smiled. Of course she would say that.

Unknown to the two blondes, there was another who mirrored the red-eyed one's expression, except his was a countenance less expecting and more pleased. Kojiro Sasaki had no idea why the little exchange had brought about such a strange feeling in him. It was akin to relief, and it was an emotion he welcomed.

Kojiro had noticed that he and this King of Heroes shared nickname for their favorite blonde. The lioness seemed to be more popular with the other servants than the Japanese man had predicted. It seemed he would have to take better measures to siphon off even just a fraction of her time. There were too many Servants to compete with, including the raven-haired foreigner who wore his envy so clearly on his face. Were warriors of the Lancer's race untrained to mask expressions, unlike the samurai Sasaki resembled?

The woman assassin who led them decelerated to a slow walk as soon as Iskandar's mana became so obvious they couldn't have been fifty meters from him. A clearing slowly appeared before the servants, the dim light of the dawn filtering through the trees assisted by a controlled bonfire by the feet of the more bestial Lancer.

The spot in the woods behind the temple was filled with most of the Servants that had been summoned, with a few just coming in.

"HA! You may be the strongest demigod known to man, HOWEVER, I am the King of Conquerors! And being that, I shall conquer you and recruit you into my army!" Iskandar howled.

"True, true. HOWEVER, can you match strength feared by the gods themselves?!" Hercules countered.

One very loud corner was occupied by the crimson dressed warrior who had summoned them all. He currently locked arms with Heracles over a fresh stump that the two no doubt had created for the sole purpose of this arm-wrestling bout. Assassin walked over to the former, tucking a few strands of stray purple hair behind her mask as she approached the man. She whispered something in his ear and finally the King of Conquerors took notice of the new arrivals and gestured them over.

Only Saber approached. Gilgamesh thought the invitation disdainful, the native didn't feel like talking to a stranger and would rather wait for his pseudo-master, and Diarmuid was too distracted to notice.

"My King, I had been searching for you." That was Lancelot, who joined Saber as she made her way to the ginger Grecian despite the glares he was getting. "I appeared in the middle of some sort of barren building that looked like it had been visited by the wrath of a dragon."

Of course, that was where their battle ended. Saber tried to ignore the pang of guilt in her heart as she remembered their tragic confrontation, and distracted herself with other thoughts. Was that parking building still standing until now?

"I appeared at the nearby temple. The second time I joined the war, that was where I ended it," Saber replied as her former knight made the familiar gesture of kissing her hand.

"Ended that blonde king too I presume?" Lancelot whispered on her knuckles.

"The King of Heroes? Yes," she said as he straightened up and took his place to her right. Lancelot looked troubled, more troubled than usual. The wrinkle in his brow was deeper and his stare ahead was far away, much past the Iskandar and his muscled Grecian rival. The slight squint told her he was trying to reach out to something he couldn't quite grasp.

"There are gaps in my memory when I think back on our Grail War, my liege. I…remember you most of all, but when it comes to the others I draw blanks," said Lancelot's deep, solemn bass. God had she missed this voice of his. She hadn't heard this tone since their days as allies against Camelot's enemies.

He was answered by a curious eyebrow and his king's full attention.

"With this King of Heroes I know at least we had a fight that was…airborne?" Lancelot said unsurely, his statement answered by Arturia's subtle nod at his words.

"And prior to that…the Lancer who is so fond of you. I remember being on opposing sides, and then on the same one and I remember you," Lancelot said with his hand on his forehead. His eyebrows were tightly scrunched together. Perhaps the mad enhancement of the Berserker Class had more of an effect on him than Arturia had thought.

"Yes, most of us met that day. Diarmuid's Master ordered him to eliminate me by assisting you against Lancer's wishes. Both yours and his Masters' plots were thwarted by the King of Conquerors though."

She said it with indifference, and he reacted in horror. How could he voluntarily agree to a fight that was clearly unfair?

"My liege—"

Saber smiled at him, so sickeningly sweet he could taste honey on his tongue. She left him gaping as she strode ahead. Again, it dawned on the troubled frenchman his king was a saint. It was too much to bear, didn't she know? Lancelot resisted the urge to act, resisted the need to catch her her hand again, to bloody force her to understand she should be angry she should befurioussheshouldbeathisthroatforhissinssheshouldbe-

His fingers curled around empty space as her wrist just swung out of his reach.

"Have you not located Caster? The one from our war?" Saber asked the man currently in the middle of an arm wrestling match, after realizing the mage who had caused them too much trouble.

She was answered not by him, but by her former escort who sat amusedly at his right side. Saber thought it odd the nameless Assassin would do so. She didn't recall Iskandar being friendly with the sneaky servants. In fact, Rider was the one who eliminated them. All of them. This woman too, she recognized. This Assassin was the one who stood and accepted Iskandar's blade. Why of all things would she even be lending her services to the King of Conquerors instead of just slipping away as Gilles de Rais had apparently done.

"We have, of course; otherwise we would be unworthy of being called Assassins. The man you speak of does not wish to join us," the Assassin said, her chin resting on her palm as she leaned on Iskandar's side of the large stump.

Heracles tipped the balance a bit towards Iskandar's side, but the ginger man only smiled in response.

"Seems you really are a force of nature, demigod," the burly man said, pushing back Heracles' hand with a new kind of force.

"I don't believe we will finish before the sun goes down, son of Zeus. Perhaps we can settle this some other glorious time.

"Saber," Iskandar addressed as he and his match ended their match in a draw, "I think as the one servant those Masters have any association with, you owe the rest of us an explanation."

All the servants minus both Casters huddled around the CuChulainn's bonfire as the sun's rays began to signal its entrance in the east.

"So," began the smooth tone of the mask-wearing beauty, Medusa, "What now?"

All eyes were on Saber. A sigh quietly escaped her small lips before she echoed the words Kiritsugu had spoken to her in her dream, leaving out what the mage-killer had mentioned about her role. She doubted that was something the honorable heroes in front of her would care to hear, especially not with such difficult personalities in her crowd. The irritated glare she sent her fellow king's way went unnoticed.

"Normal lives, eh?" Cu echoed, poking his fire as if only to feel the heat on his skin. "So far this Emiya has kept his word with our bodies. Think he'll really let us go when this is all over?"

Saber nodded. Kiritsugu at least deserved that much credit. She knew, too, that Irisviel wouldn't trick her so. As if on cue, his words were marked by the arrival of Medea and her human escort. The servants present picked up fast. Obviously the stoic man wasn't one they had seen in the Throne of Heroes. He had no visible magic power, no obvious physical training. He was so blatantly a normal human being, and one from this era, no less.

"What the hell?"

Cu's expression contorted when he finally realized exactly what he was seeing. Within the crowd, even Medusa expressed a tinge of surprise. That...couldn't have been right. Standing next to the tearful woman mage was a face that should have been six feet under, ten years decayed by now.

Realizing the amount of confused attention she was receiving, Medea put a protective arm around her resurrected human lover.

"Saber. It seems that homunculus woman has kept her end of the deal. I assume I must now keep mine," she uttered, beautiful purple lip tint in a grim line.

Kuzuki Souchirou received the puzzled expressions silently, allowing his former Servant to act as she saw fit. He recognized some of them, especially the two blondes. How could he forget them. Gilgamesh, he looked at with mild anger, but otherwise he would not dare act. He could infer from all this that the people gathered were about as powerful or even more powerful than Caster.

Suddenly, the magus strode towards the short king, but not before warning all the others of what horrors she could inflict if they touched her man. A dainty hand was firmly around Saber's wrist.

The king's first instinct was to throw her off, but the magus moved quick enough that Medea was back at Souchirou's side when Saber could see what the woman had written on her skin. A red alive like fire stared back from small bold strokes on her wrist. The hot scar was shaped like a horseshoe inside of a ring, but before she could discern its meaning it disappeared as soon as it had appeared.

"I will not be far. At least...not from you."

In a blink, she was gone. So was Kuzuki.

The silence that followed was one bathed in confusion.

It was the one with hair of carnations that spoke first. "I repeat my query. What now?"

Rider's question was more difficult to answer than it had seemed initially. Arturia avoided the glowing sets of eyes that tried to catch her gaze. What answer had she? Kiritsugu had instructed them to live normal lives in the meantime. He hadn't told her how.

A drop of sunlight fell beneath her eyelids and she had to blink away the shine. It was...warm, inviting her out of the forest and into the world she had long been stolen from. The early morning breeze that nicked her skin gave her goosebumps, another reminder she was no longer a listless ghost among the living. Arturia breathed, shoulders heaving as the mountain air filled her lungs for one brief refreshing moment as she actualized the gift she had once again been given. The azure sky that had begun to brighten up above gave her the answer she had been looking for.

"We live."

…

"Why must you follow me?"

It surprised Diarmuid a bit that she had not questioned his place by her side. He was thankful of course, that when everyone had left the clearing and Saber began to walk her own way she hadn't complained when he'd taken stride beside her. He had been silent about it too, ready to leave if she had told him to find his own way, but otherwise enjoying the luxury of her company like it was a gift from heaven.

What didn't surprise him was the company of the King of Heroes. That was something he expected. Diarmuid didn't particularly appreciate it, but honestly he hadn't a clue what to make of the Mesopotamian. Not at all.

"I believe I have adequately offered an explanation, my queen."

Gilgamesh's obsession with Saber was as certain as the sun waking up in the east every passing day. What was also certain was that Saber tolerated him, no matter what had happened between them.

What had happened?

Knowledge that eluded him as long as Diarmuid wouldn't ask.

The Irishman watched the King of Knights elude the other's fingers as they reached for her face, hearing his own teeth clench as his jaw tightened. Curse his own hand for having been eliminated so early on! Anything could have happened between the two blondes following his death. From what he could gather, he could infer Arturia must have been one of the last to expire during the Fourth War and Gilgamesh too, if Iskandar had been defeated by him. Berserker...Lancelot, he must have been defeated by either king. Following that theory, Saber and Archer would have been the last two.

Diarmuid cringed at the thought, but resumed his theory. Neither could have won, otherwise their present situation couldn't have come to light. But if neither won, what happened?

Why, try as he might, couldn't he find her for the eternity he was searching, only to find out she had been summoned again? How could there have been two Archers in the second Grail war that she fought? How could she have been summoned twice in a row? How could Gilgamesh meet her both times?

The golden-haired demigod tried to touch Arturia's face again, but she slapped his hand away before Gilgamesh could.

And then there was that little sequence of him and her, the King so casually caressing her face like he'd done it before. It stopped Diarmuid in his tracks when he'd seen them like that. The Irishman only made his way across the temple courtyard when he'd seen she'd pushed Gilgamesh away. Diarmuid wouldn't lie and say it didn't affect him.

He shook his head. He hadn't thoughts like that since he was but a young lad.

Diarmuid sighed as he continued to follow the one light he had been granted in his years as a knight down the hill towards a town he knew next to nothing about.

The three descended the last steps from Ryuudou Temple. Lancer was completely unfamiliar with the location. During his time as a Servant, he had mostly stayed with is dreadful Master. Kayneth never took the time to help him study the geography of Fuyuki. The only way he could ever view the full city was through the window of the hotel Saber's Master decided to destroy.

Saber walked with a certainty of a resident of the area. Her feet did not hesitate when they turned corners or met intersections, but for some odd reason she couldn't keep herself from staring at the ground.

Their other companion, having finished his verbal bout with the woman, shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled, as if he too knew where they were headed and didn't like it. Wherever it was, Gilgamesh was unhappy about it, dragging his feet as he walked.

It was a dark chocolate brown gate of a Japanese-style mansion that greeted them when Saber's footsteps had finally come to a stop. Without hesitation, Arturia rang the doorbell at the gate, and stepped back. The girl seemed like she suddenly found her shoes interesting, as she stared down at them as she waited for someone to answer.

Is this the residence of an ally of yours, Saber? He thought. His eyes roamed the wall until they landed on a nameplate by the gate. He blinked several times as if willing the kanji to change. Perhaps it was just that he was bad at Japanese. He thought Saber hated that man, and yet

Emiya?

Diarmuid reached out to Saber's shoulder to question her actions, but right then, the gate flew open, revealing a beautiful woman with glowing blue eyes and long black hair that reached past her lower back.

Time slowed when she lowered her gaze to Saber's. Simultaneously, two pairs of eyes widened, both recognizing the other in their vibrant orbs. The dark-haired woman was first to move. Shaking, she brought a quivering hand towards Arturia's face. Just before her fingers touched, the woman turned sharply and called out the name of the one Saber came back for.

"What is it, Rin?"

The smaller gate opened wider, revealing an older, taller man, with gray streaking his ginger hair. He stood much higher than he had ten years ago, even higher than both Saber's company. His build was muscular, completely replacing the skinny youth he was before. Hard, piercing eyes retained that odd yellowish colored iris, but otherwise they were different, the naivete Saber was so used to seeing replaced by maturity and a bit of hope. They zoned in on the petite King.

As if his gaze was a current, Arturia felt the electricity run through her veins. Her knees quivered just a little as she lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Oh, it had been only hours but my, had she missed him, his face, his smile, his overprotectiveness, his boyish perfume-everything, everything.

The surroundings blurred as her heart beat faster than the wings of a bird, climbing and climbing higher til it finally reached the skyline. With a look he had disarmed her, he'd left her breathless, helpless to her feelings.

Too late, she could sense the heat in her cheeks, the smile on her lips. Too late, she couldn't stop the excitement building up in her chest. Too late, there was the desire to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him she loved him over and over and over.

"Saber?"

In his voice, all those feelings were unexpectedly absent.

"Saber?" the man repeated, a knit set of eyebrows disclosing how he truly felt.

Shirou looked at her with uncomprehending eyes. Why was she here? He thought she disappeared. No, he watched her disappear. So, why was she here now, alive and unchanged, standing right in front of him?

Rin moved before he did, grasping Saber's wrist and raising a hand pistol on a familiar sinister face. Shirou's swords were out in milliseconds, both out in the ready against the bastard that should have stayed dead those ten years ago.

"STAY BACK!" he barked, raising his right blade in the direction of the man who had given him the scars he could never erase; the man who gave Saber scars, who blinded the servant in trying to claim her love for himself. That sick sadist! What the hell was he even doing here?

Anger boiled behind Shirou's eyelids, making him see red in the vision that was Gilgamesh. The Servant had to be crazy if he thought Shirou was the same naive little dream-chaser he was ten years ago. That battle by the water was more than enough a wake-up call for the talentless magus. Shirou had faced adversary after adversary the ten years that followed the Grail War, he hadn't been idle.

But even Shirou knew a demigod was no easy target, and bloody hell, he knew what the Servant could do given the chance to open his cursed Noble Phantasm. They'd be dead and gone if he allowed that to happen. Rin-he had to get her out of here in case Gilgamesh would try to attack. Shirou couldn't afford another casualty in his household.

Shit.

Shirou bit on his lip so hard he could taste the iron in his mouth amongst the feel of his teeth chattering. Shit! All those ten years toiling and training. All those years, and still here he was, shaking like a leaf in front of an enemy he had seen defeated, one he had already fought before. He knew he could fight! He could fight! He could fight!

But Shirou still knew he would never stand a chance.

It seemed Gilgamesh shared his antagonism, fueled by the fact this idiot mongrel had the gall to try and keep his wife away from him a second time. Several weapons materialized behind Gilgamesh, all pointing towards Shirou.

"You dare point that thing at your king, mongrel?" the King shouted, masking the ferocity his rapidly depleting prana took away from his eyes.

In the corner of her vision, Rin finally noticed the dark-haired stranger standing aside, who had much more mana than her father's stupid Servant and aimed her Gandr at the unsuspecting man. The rational side of her told her to shoot and kill before he could do anything to harm them but it was hard to do that when their shorter former ally had stopped her in her tracks.

"Archer."

The green eyes he so adored, pierced him so deeply he couldn't resist their hold. If only they'd cease to dart towards that unworthy mongrel. If only they'd just hold his gaze, just like they have in the past so daringly, so fearlessly.

Babylon's Gate's shut so suddenly, as if rejecting the man their Master had become.

How is Saber taming that monster? Rin asked herself as she looked to the small woman next to her. Saber hadn't aged, but she did. She was twenty-seven now, and so was Shirou. And what in the world is she doing here? Saber didn't feel like a spirit anymore. She seemed…human.

"You're explaining yourselves when we get inside," Shirou went in the gate, Rin close behind him. Lancer and Archer gave Saber a look. Who knows what's going to happen now? They were led inside the Japanese house, everything all too familiar to Saber. The mansion looked just like it did ten years ago. Everything was more or less the same: the polished floors, the glass windows…everything. Nostalgia…nostalgia.

To the side, the hallway to her room. Right there, she remembered was where Shirou had kissed her. The thought made her blush.

The three Servants were led to the dining room, where they were given cushions to sit on. Saber and the two magi sat with ease. Diarmuid struggled to maintain the position, while Gilgamesh didn't even bother. The latter slumped to the floor and spread his legs under the low table. Rin served tea to all of them setting a cup in front of everyone, yet shaking a bit in front of Gilgamesh, before taking a seat next to Shirou. The blonde King proceeded to bring out a glass of wine, and sipped it, pleased with the taste. Saber wondered how he could never get drunk.

"So," Rin started awkwardly, cold sweat forming on her forehead as she faced Gilgamesh. The now older woman scooted a bit closer to Shirou. "Are you going to explain why you're here?"

Saber blew at her tea. She doubted they would believe their story, even if it was Shirou. The now-grown man brought the cup to his lips. Saber decided to just go on with it. They had to tell them sometime, and now that they were here, she might as well tell them.

"Kiritsugu sent us."

Shirou's cup dropped with a thud, the tea spreading slowly across the table. What? Rin choked on her tea, and ran to get a rag to wipe the spilled drink.

"Did I hear that right? Kiritsugu? My father?"

His father?! Lancer was surprised. He didn't even look a bit like him.

Saber nodded, ignoring Gilgamesh's snickering and watched Rin wipe off the tea, her being assisted by an apologetic Shirou. It was definitely unbelievable. According to Shirou, his adoptive father had died five, no, fifteen years ago now. There was no way Kiritsugu could come back to life, except by some miracle, but the Servants knew what they saw. That was undoubtedly the authentic mage killer.

Rin and Shirou nodded to each other, coming to a silent agreement. "Look, actually, you're not the first surprise that came here."

This got Saber's and Lancer's interest. Not the first? Does this mean that in the ten years we were gone, the Grail had been active?

Shirou continued.

"Beginning at the end of the 5th Holy Grail War, many…people had started appearing."

Rin continued for him, "No one knows where they came from, but almost instantly, they began living normal lives, as if they'd always been living here. We've managed to track and monitor some of them, but others appeared elsewhere in the world and were lost. We've tried to find them, but… Anyway, do you have any clue as to what is happening? And…are you part of it? What is Kiritsugu planning?"

Saber's face remained unchanged. "Others? We were not informed of such an occurrence. And Kiritsugu…He sent us here to destroy the Greater Grail, and end the cycle for good."

Shirou's eyes widened. She couldn't possibly be serious. Didn't they just destroy the Grail ten years ago?

"Cycle? You mean the Holy Grail Wars?"

Saber nodded.

"And how will you do that?"

"Destroy seals that appear around the world to allow the Greater Grail to take form and then demolish it as it materializes."

Silence.

Shirou's head hit the table.

"It seems there's a hell of a lot of things we don't yet understand. But if you really are going to destroy the Grail, you can count on my help." Shirou smiled goofily, the smile Saber had loved. She was grateful for his help.

"What will you do while waiting for the seals to appear, then?"

Saber did not reply. What were they going to do? They were Servants. They were trained fighting machines meant to follow orders and function for the Grail War. It seemed like such a sweet idea to live again while they were in the Throne of Heroes, but now that they're on Earth, well…

"You have to live as normal humans, I'm guessing?" Rin asked.

"Well…" Saber tried to reply.

Shirou let his chin rest on his hand and sighed. Really, what was the world coming to? He was happy to see Saber, as it seems she didn't really disappear forever, but what does this mean for the world? Is the Grail War starting up again? Not only that, she brought that demon of a King along with her…and some other…strange man. Ah. Well.

But this would mean she and the other two would have to stay over at…

Rin gave him a look.

…his house.

He nodded back to the woman.

Shirou showed the three Servants a 'peace sign'.

"Two weeks. We can house you for two weeks." He took back his hand. "But, after that, you should be able to find your own accommodation. Perhaps you could rent an apartment or maybe a house. Sorry, but two weeks is all we can give you. We'll help you move in, help you pay your rent, but that's all we can do." Shirou scratched the back of his head. "Sorry,"

Saber smiled at him, "No need for that, it should give us enough time to find a job."

"A...job." Gilgamesh articulated with obvious disgust.

Rin got up and said, "I hope you'll be comfortable." The woman smiled at Saber and left the room.

Gilgamesh watched the woman leave with a smidgen of interest. She reminded him a little too much of the tool of a master he had back in the First war. He wasn't sure if it was the predominance of red in her garment, or perhaps the sharp blue of her eyes, but in any case the king didn't want to bother himself with speculation.

Lancer, on the other hand, watched the blonde woman as she talked with this 'Shirou'. She seemed different. Her green eyes were lit and she was smiling. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, almost red. She was blushing. She moved differently. She almost seemed…shy. He looked from Saber to the redheaded man and back to Saber. Did she perhaps…? No. The King of Knights couldn't have possibly…could she?

The red-haired man scratched the back of his head again. It seemed to be a habit of his. There was a glint from his fingers. Nevermind that. Who is this man? He is the son of Emiya Kiritsugu, though they bear no resemblance, yes, but what is his relation to Saber?

Both Saber and Shirou left the room in response to Rin's voice, leaving Lancer with the question on his tongue.

"He was her Master."

Lancer froze, fingers hovering over the polished wood, at the King of Heroes' words.

"What's that expression for, mongrel?" Gilgamesh asked, amused, already knowing what his answer would be.

Diarmuid did not reply, but slid the door open and went after the female knight. Now alone, the King took a sip of his wine and swirled the red liquid in his glass.

"Fool."

Gilgamesh took another sip of his fine wine.

Hm?

The King chuckled at his own actions and set the glass down on the low table. He rose. It seemed he was going to follow the two Servants anyway.

A fool...I am one as well, after all.

The King left the room and shut the door behind him.

A white-haired woman entered the kitchen the King had just left. She called out names, but with no reply. The table had cups of tea left on it. She huffed and decided to clean the place up. Her hands stopped next to an empty flute. It was an expensive crystal red wine glass…with a beautiful web of cracks that marred its once clear surface.


	11. Anew

"I am serious about calling the mage association, you know.  _He_  might be able to help too. Besides he may even know about the other servants who came with Saber if they did come from the 4th War. We have to tell him, Rin, " Shirou said, looking over his shoulder. If he thought he couldn't be heard from the other room he was quite wrong.

Saber sighed. Their two weeks were nearly up and surprisingly, she'd seen very little of her former master and Rin. She wondered often where the two had been going and believed they would tell her soon, but the two came back late, if at all, and she would always miss the chance to ask them. There were days when she'd wake up and find them both gone, with only a meal left at the table for both her and Diarmuid.

"Good morning, Artu—Aria."

_Speaking of whom…_

"A pleasant morning to you as well. How did your little excursion go?"

Diarmuid slid next to her on the table as she served him rice. It was quite unusual…a king serving a knight…but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Over the past few days, he'd almost gotten used to it. It was just the kind of life they lived in the Emiya home.

"Uneventfully. I visited the bridge you told me about. The one by the river. I believe I have sufficiently studied the town enough to navigate it."

"And the job search?"

Diarmuid let out a long breath. It seemed his search was unsuccessful. "Drake Odina is still without work, as my luck would have it," the knight said as he offered Saber some curry, "And you, Miss Aria Dragon?"

"I have not yet found one that would suit our needs. There are several dojos around, all of which would be glad to add western sword technique to their lessons, but I do not believe they would appreciate a tutor who would disappear without a trace every now and then," Saber replied. Arturia wasn't used to their new names yet. It would take her a few moments to process when she was being addressed by her new name.

At first, she was against the idea of adopting a new moniker, but both Shirou and Rin wouldn't let the matter go. A name like hers and those of her companions were far too conspicuous, and would attract unnecessary attention if not from civilians, then from the Mage Association itself.

_The night they arrived…_

"And so you need new names … and I guess we could make fake documents for each of you. It isn't just the three of you, right? Did you come with others?"

Saber and Archer abhorred the idea. Proud kings giving up their name for another? The idea was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

"Mongrel, I do not see the point of this preposterous proposal. If you for even one second believe this is a sound plan, then you must have gone completely mad."

The redhead, who could never truly get used to Gilgamesh's presence, turned to the orange eyed servant. "What was your name again Dieer…?" Shirou trailed off confused, hoping he would finish.

"Diarmuid O'Dyna." Lancer finished simply sighing. Was his name that much of a tongue twister?

"Yes, well…that name might be quite difficult to pronounce in this country. Perhaps something simpler? We don't have to change all of it, but we can change it into something similar. Foreign names are fine since…well…none of you even look remotely like Japanese people. We don't want the Mage Association restricting your movements so much after all."

Saber didn't see the need to change his name. She could pronounce it just fine.  _Diarmuid O'Dyna._

"Something that starts with D, then." Shirou stroked his clean shaven chin.

"How about Damian?" Rin suggested. Shirou smiled and scratched his head. He wasn't the best at anything foreign. He could barely even speak English. Rin on the other hand, was much much better at this. Illya too, he supposed.

"Damian: the tamer, from the Greek language, I think," the dark haired girl continued. "How about it, Lancer?"

Lancer just stared at her looking skeptic. It didn't really sound right.  _The Tamer._ Well, considering that his death was caused by a beast, it didn't even sound remotely close to right. He made his own suggestion. "What about Daegan? It means black haired in my language."

Rin, Shirou, Illya, and Saber exchanged glances. "Any other suggestions?" Shirou asked.

"Would you mind a name from my language, Lancer?" Saber suggested. If they absolutely had to go through with this they could at least do it right.

"Not at all, what do you have in mind?" he asked Saber back, smiling, and wishing she would come up with a nice name. She did, in fact, and it was one most suited to him. Saber associated Diarmuid with a mythical being. He had the charm of a prince, the chivalry of knights, and the power of a raging beast. And as she thought of him as a rather magical being, she thought she might give him the name of the most regal of magical creatures.

"Drake: the dragon…Drake Odina. What say you?"

Hm. It had a nice ring to it. This name was English instead of Irish, but it sounded right.  _A dragon, eh?_  Unnoticeably, he smiled with his face turned, an odd sense of happiness welling in his chest.

Diarmuid turned to the orange haired man. "Is that fine?"

Shirou just shrugged, agreeing. It was an okay name. Not too hard to pronounce either. "How about you, Gilgamesh?" Shirou asked, trying his best to suppress a shudder. It was still bothering him that they were seated at a table with someone who had almost killed him and Saber ten years ago. He couldn't fathom how calm his former servant was in front of her greatest adversary, yet there she was, tranquil as a lake, with one hand on her chin.

Did Gilgamesh even have a last name? Saber found herself looking at the blonde king. Who was he really? If she should name him, what would it be? Surely it would describe him. Gil was undoubtedly strong…stronger than her…stronger than anyone she'd ever met. He owned more riches than she could ever even imagine.

"What about Gil Edric?"

A blonde eyebrow turned upward as he king waited for Saber to explain herself.

"Edric," she repeated, "An uncommon name from my time. Edric, from the words êad and rîc, meaning 'rich and powerful.' I believe it would be to your liking?" She let the new name slide off her tongue.

It was almost too easy to name her two companions, and she had found names that suited them both well. Gil, for one, subtly raised a corner of his lips as if satisfied. She would have missed it if she wasn't watching his reaction. His new name described him perfectly and said nothing less about his glory. A suitable name for a man such as himself.

Diarmuid, too, seemed satisfied with his English name. Saber contemplated whether she should have gone with what she had initially thought would suit him. Kyle. Kyle, meaning 'handsome'. Even Saber couldn't deny that. That little love spot didn't need to work to make people fall for him. He was doing that part well enough on his own. Arturia didn't think why 'Drake' even crossed her mind, but it just...fit.

And now it was her turn.

She received odd looks from her two Servant companions. It was a little difficult to name such a complicated woman. Diarmuid found it hard to find a name for her. To him she had beauty that shone brighter than the sun and all the stars, but would she agree to a name that meant that? He made a list of all the names he could think of that matched her.

 _Aine or Anya , an ancient Irish name that meant splendour, radiance, or brilliance..._ but that was also the name of one of Fionn's wives. He shuddered. Someone like Saber should not carry the name of a pitiful woman Fionn called his wife. The man married for the sake of marrying. Saber did not deserve that.

 _Aoife or Ava, meaning beautiful, radiant, or joyful._ However that was the name of the other Lancer's, Cu Chulainn's, wife, from whom he sired a son. Having just  _met_  Cu Chulainn, he couldn't suggest that could he?

_Brianna, meaning noble or virtuous._

_Deirdre, the most beautiful woman in ancient Ireland, betrothed to the high king Conchobar Mac Nessa._ It was a beautiful name, but he could imagine what Saber's ginger master would have said about the spelling.

 _Niamh, or Niav meaning radiance, lustre or brightness, a daughter of the sea god, who fell in love with one of Diarmuid's comrades and Fionn's son , Oisin._  It really didn't sit well with Diarmuid that he would involve the King of Knights with anything that had to do with his past, even if he did respect Oisin.

 _Saoirse, "Freedom, liberty," or Orlaith, the golden princess._ It didn't sound right at all. Maybe,  _Ryanne, meaning "little" king._ Diarmuid almost snickered at that one. Maybe he could tease Saber a bit with it.

 _Deirdre,_ so far that was the best choice. Had a nice backstory to it too. But it still just didn't, well, suit her. It just wasn't quite...there.

He glanced to his side, wishing Gil  _Edric_  wasn't between him and whom he thought was the most beautiful of women. What suited her exactly? He didn't know. Arturia Pendragon was already a beautiful name, albeit a bit suspicious considering the popularity of her legend. Why was this so hard?

"We could go with a Japanese name and say you're half," Shirou suggested, "…Ryuu Akane?"

"Aria."

Ignoring the attention that came his way, the bored King of Heroes said nonchalantly, "She shortened my name, I do not see why that should not work for her. You mongrels worry about the most trivial of things. Fools."

With that, he took a sip of wine from the glass that mysteriously appeared in his hand.

Raised eyebrows decorated the odd group's faces.

"She can have Dragon as her surname then," Diarmuid suggested, "Well, to keep it close to her real name, and well, this way she wouldn't have to pretend she's half."

After giving the two male Servants a strange look, the ginger-haired man shrugged. "Sure."

_Aria Dragon, huh?_

Saber smiled a little, eyeing her two companions.

_Drake Odina…and Gil Edric._

_Present time_

"You would think this would be less of a bother. We  _are_  heroes. We have a certain set of skills," the woman king uttered as she positioned Lancer's chopsticks in his hand.

"Skills that humanity has apparently abandoned, King of Knights," the man replied, struggling to get used to the wooden Japanese utensils, "As I have observed, the townsfolk these days are never in any danger of being attacked by a warring faction. Back in my day, I could at least be hired a mercenary."

"Yes, well, I have found while mercenaries exist in this era, they would much rather slay at a distance…using guns and the like. That work is more suited to those of the Assassin class, I believe."

The two knights began breakfast, every now and then sneaking a glance at the two young mages in the other room. They seemed to be deeply engrossed in heated discussion.

"So, Saber, the Mage Association…what do you know of it?" asked Lancer. When she followed his eyes, she knew Rin and Shirou were not being as discreet as they thought.

"Apart from it being exactly what its name means, they do send a representative to the Holy Grail War whenever it happens. Perhaps to harness its power. Kiritsugu was always wary of them. I was not sure whether he trusted them or not," Saber eyed her companion, "I am actually quite surprised you ask me. Your master was, in fact, the one they had sent during our time."

"My former master was not really one to talk."

The Servants found themselves looking out to their hosts once more. Rin had a hand on her forehead while Shirou continued to angrily whisper words her way.

"I think we ought to stop relying on their hospitality, Diarmuid, they are still young after all. By the way they are acting, I do not believe they have any formal occupation yet," said the King of Knights. She would hate to be a burden, especially on Shirou. The last time they met he was working multiple jobs to keep food on the table until Tohsaka arrived.

"My thoughts as well. I just wish there were a job that allowed more flexibility. We cannot be blamed if one of those seals suddenly appears and we have to leave. And those missions could take days, if not weeks," the Knight reasoned, letting his eyes drift back to the petite blonde who sat next to him.

The mission. It had been nearly two weeks since Saber's master had plopped them back into the world, and they'd received no contact from the Mage Killer since. Their few days had been peaceful, and yet somewhat lacking. The King of Heroes had taken off barely three days into their stay in the Emiya household, dubbing the place 'much too distasteful and mundane' and set out to find a more suitable home. Gilgamesh had visited Saber every day since then, hoping to charm her into living with him, but to Diarmuid's relief, the King of Knights declined the offer, every single time.

Til now, Diarmuid knew not what to make of Arturia's relationship with Gilgamesh. The King of Heroes knew just how to derail her thoughts so much she could barely hold a conversation with him without her temper winning her over.  _Something_  had happened between Lancer's death and the day he met Saber in the Throne of Heroes and he didn't know what. Try as he might, he couldn't find out.

A loud pop resounded from the yard, and Diarmuid's attention was drawn in the direction of the noise, where the two mages continued bickering in the yard. With a final Gandr, Rin decided to storm off, leaving Shirou an apologetic mess. The redhead stole a glance at the slightly ajar dining room door, unaware of the two Servants observing him.

"I think I owe the dojo another visit, what say you?"

Diarmuid just nodded.

**~oooOOOooo~**

The King of Heroes disinterest grew with every selling point the mongrel was making. He'd gone through all the trouble of finding the best broker in town and he'd ended up with this wretch of a human being. The hotel he was staying at til today grew dull with its painfully white sheets and lackluster furniture. Where was the grandeur, the opulence that was awarded to five-star hotels? Well, if it was a mongrel making the judgement, of course such dreary rooms and standardized wallpapers would impress. But to Gilgamesh, the King of Kings, the hotel penthouse was if anything, a bore.

"Is this the premiere residence in this wretched town?" Gilgamesh stated flatly as the Nichibotsu Kyuden, as the pathetic broker called it, came into view.

The car came around into the driveway and Mr. Fukushima opened the door for his new client. Though he didn't recognize the name Gil Edric, Fukushima could tell he was dealing with the most powerful of men. And so, the poor, simple Fukushima ended up having to wipe his clammy hands on his trousers every five minutes, as he tried to deal with the sheer dominance of this man's aura.

Who  _was_  Gil Edric? Even if he searched the web for the name he came up completely blank. By the man's exotic look and exceptional appearance, one would think Mr. Edric a celebrity. Plus, not just anyone waltzed into the Fukushima conglomerate without any money, for they only dealt in the hundred millions. And this guy just walked in like he owned the place, strutting into the President's office unintimidated. This blonde playboy must have been worth billions.

And so Mr. Fukushima found himself doing the job of the common salesman. Great.

"Wh-why, yes sir. It was built by the best modern architects in the last year."

 _Sir?_ Since when did he call his clients  _sir?_

"Is that supposed to impress me?" asked a clearly unimpressed Gil Edric.

The foreign billionaire walked into the double doors of the Sunset Mansion. While his back was turned, Fukushima took the opportunity to set his head on straight. It was important he impress this client to so that he would consider buying a lot here in Zeitaku Heights. The Fukushima Conglomerate had acquired this entire mountainside for the purchase of powerful people, but after the unexplainable events ten years prior, all their potential buyers had scurried off. The few people who had secured lots had done it at significant discounts, which left Fukushima at a loss.

It was a shame really. Zeitaku had the best view of Fuyuki. Due to it being on the mountainside, one could hardly hear the hubbub of Shinto, and it overlooked Miyami. The Nichibotsu Kyuden, which sat on the highest lot in Zeitaku Heights, had an even better and more expansive view of the city than those modern skyscrapers all over Shinto.

"Only the sturdiest materials were used to make it sir. Luxury was the theme in mind," Fukushima answered, he himself admiring the handiwork that went into the mansion. The Nichibotsu Kyuden was designed to reflect Fuyuki. The architect who made it married the traditional housing of Miyama with the modernity of Shinto to create this masterpiece. The palace was warm, incorporating dark wooden floorings polished to perfection, yet with floor to ceiling glass windows that were usually only seen on modern zen designs.

The ceilings of this mansion were high, and it relied on indoor heating to get through the winter months, but it was worth the sacrifice for the large, crystal chandelier to hang brilliantly in the center space. From the entrance, the mansion split into three wings. The east, which housed a pool of water and a Sakura garden that bloomed in spring, the north, where the Master bedroom and various other rooms were located, and the South wing, which could hold whatever rich people wish to hold. Of course, the entrance faced the west, where one could see the Sunset, which is what the mansion was really named for.

Fukushima considered all that to be immensely impressive, but it didn't seem like Gil Edric took any interest in his words.

"And this…neighborhood. Am I not going to be surrounded by commoners like you?"

Fukushima nearly choked. Of everything he just described,  _that_ was what Mr. Edric worried about?

"Well…there are some surrounding empty lots that are owned, but I don't think that would be a problem, all our properties are quite expansive, they won't be for a miles—"

"I don't live with mongrels," Gil Edric stated with straight face.

"You're the first to reside in this compound, sir. If you do buy a lot. The others haven't yet broken ground. This house was meant to showcase how luxurious the rest of the houses here should be."

Gilgamesh considered what the mongrel had said. There weren't many alternatives that he found satisfactory. He'd been all over Fuyuki looking for a place to reside and his patience was wearing thin. So far, Zeitaku was the one he least disliked. Perhaps it will have to do.

"Have this place furnished with only the finest of materials, no matter the expense," Gilgamesh said, deciding to explore his new residence a bit.

"You-you're going to buy it sir?" Fukushima asked. Wait, the Nichibotsu Kyuden wasn't for sale! At least not yet! At best it was just a demo house.

"Mongrel, did I stutter?" Gilgamesh interrupted, sharply. His voice made Fukushima wish he was never born.

"N-no sir."

"And tell the other owners they are being bought out. From now on I own this entire compound."

Fukushima began to sweat profusely. "Bu-but sir, that would cost a at least a billion—"

Gilgamesh gave him a smile that would have scared a lion out of its skin. Good god, Fukushima was getting way too old for his job. Suddenly early retirement didn't seem like such a faraway thing.

"Now tell me mongrel, where can I acquire a gown for my beloved?"

**~oooOOOooo~**

"So let me get this straight. You used to be a stable boy? A hired hand?" Diarmuid chuckled, a little bounce in his step, as he walked the streets with his favorite little knight.

"Yes, and to my brother, an errand boy and escort," Saber happily informed him.

The two Servants were headed toward the dojo on the other side of town, hopefully to secure a job, maybe to find another place to stay.

"I can hardly believe it! The king of knights, brandishing the sword of her brother? Seems farfetched. You jest," Diarmuid prodded, trying to imagine a young Arturia up and about at the break of dawn, with buckets of oats on each hand to take to the horses, and then, a younger Arturia carrying a sheath that was exactly her height.

"I assure you, I tell the truth. Kay used to make fun of me as a child, saying the best I could be was his loyal stable boy."

"He was wrong, of course."

Saber smiled at the memory of her brother. Kay was a bully when she was young, but heavens, was he a softie. Kay would always put up a strong front, but Arturia and her father Ector would always know that he didn't really mean all the harsh things he was spouting. It was just the way he showed affection.

"Oh he was. I could beat him in swordsmanship at the age of nine, but he'd call each of my winnings "a darned cheat" for reasons only he could think of."

"And later, you were king," Diarmuid beamed, wondering just how Arturia's brother must have looked when the guy heard the news. He must have been stupefied.

"Yes, I pulled the sword from the stone and was king. For some reason, it didn't sit well with Kay. He was proud of course, but he always seemed distant once I had the throne. I never understood why."

Arturia's jovial tone faded, prompting the Irishman to look her way. Her eyes lacked the luster that was there just moments before. This 'Kay' must have really meant something to her.

"Perhaps he just lacked the ability to communicate it," Diarmuid soothed, offering her and understanding half-smile, "His sister went from stable boy to king in a single day."

His words seemed to calm her, as the smile returned to her face. Diarmuid felt heat surge to his ears.

"Perhaps," Arturia sighed, "I do miss him though. Before he left, he was one of the only knights I could be myself around. His words were none too kind, but everyone needs a sharp kick in the behind every now and then. Even kings." Saber chuckled, a pure sound that could fell any man.

"What about you, Diarmuid? Any siblings?" She looked at him so suddenly, it almost made him jump.

"I…wasn't exactly your average birth. My father—Oof!"

Diarmuid reeled back as he collided with a tall, muscled figure. Arturia steadied him as he teetered, but the man he collided with was thrown back from the impact. A tassel of chestnut hair whipped around from the impact as the stranger rather unceremoniously landed on his behind.

"Bollocks!"

Arturia froze.  _That voice! It…it can't be. It can't…_

The stranger swept his hair back, and she could see the telltale marking right under his eye. The tattoo she told him never to get. She told him it would just make his scar stand out, but he wouldn't listen.  _He?_

Visions of rolling fields and racing horses came back to her. Sparring, laughing, drinking stolen wine under the trees. Fishing by the lake, bathing even in the rain. Dim nights in the stables sharing apples with the horses. Hiding from Sir Ector on the roof of the barn.

Arguments she knew she would never ever win. Witty words, sly remarks, arrogant laughing. Showing off and shame. A snarky voice and a crude laugh. The sharpest of all tongues.

But most of all, a pat on the head when she'd done well.

"Goodness me, I must apologize. I was not watching my step," Diarmuid said, hurriedly offering his hand to help the person up.

"More like you were much too preoccupied with that pretty doll on your…arm…"

Arturia couldn't look, for fear she'd be wrong, and it wasn't him that sat there on the ground, that it was just another stranger with brown hair and a ridiculous facial scar. That there was just another man on this earth at five and ten inches with a voice like  _his_.

"Arty?"

The King of Knights stiffened at the moniker, and felt her throat tighten with…with who knows what. Was it fear? Relief? Anguish?

"Arturia?"

God, there it was again. The familiar inflection of the r's. The nasally pitch of his baritone.  _Could it be?_

Suddenly, she was enveloped in two strong, familiar arms. Arturia barely registered Diarmuid's flustered remarks as the smell of sun and apples overloaded her senses. A scent she associated only with one person in the whole wide world.

Her heart beat furiously in her chest, and she could feel his do the same as the stranger held her closer, locking his hands behind her back.

"It  _is_  you, isn't it, Arty? It's you. I mean, I knew it was possible but…"

A warm, salty droplet trickled down her neck and she felt the same sting her eyes. The heat was beginning to show on her face when they sank to the ground, still holding each other close. She tucked her head into his neck and desperately tried to keep her tears from falling.

"Kay."

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N)  
> All right, first chapter's up. Hope you guys give this fic a chance, it's my first one. :) Well, at least, the first I have uploaded. Please review, I'd like to know what I should improve. :) Feel free to message me. I'll try to respond as soon as I can.
> 
> Edit: So, this is actually a repost from ff.net. One of my friends told me I should expand to new horizons or something like that, so here it is, Enjoy. 


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